Brave New World
by Sheherazade's Fable
Summary: "Its funny," Becky said, "I've been thrown into your world and you've been thrown into mine." With Morgana's 'insurance policy' wrecking havoc though, all of them find themselves struggling through a tempest. Final Part in the All the Right Moves series.
1. Chapter 1

When the Grimhold opened Veronica felt the year 2000 enter her mind. However, she didn't have time to panic, didn't have time to realize that another forty-one years in addition ot all those other centuries had passed where Balthazar had been forced to conduct his search alone. All she knew was that Maxim Horvath was in the world again, something that Balthazar would never allow.

Then the opening was gone and she was left with the full force of her mounting fear. Any second she expected to see Horvath shoved back into the Grimhold, but time had a different meaning inside that prison. She walked around the cold gray landscape, shivering and waiting to see evidence of her love's triumph.

The thought that perhaps Balthazar had killed him did enter her mind. Of course, she doubted he was capable of that. At one point Balthazar and Horvath had been brothers. Horvath had since been corrupted and turned cruel, but she knew that Balthazar hadn't gone that way. If it had been by accident though or for extreme self-defense…

Just when she had reconciled herself to the thought that that was what had happened she felt the Grimhold open again. It was 2010, and Sun-Lok was being let out. She nearly had a heart attack. Was he growing weaker out there from the countless centuries spent fighting? Or, and this thought nearly brought her to her knees, had Horvath escaped and killed him?

No, he was not weak, he was stronger than that. Veronica had to believe that he was out there, that he was still fighting and that the odds were just stacking up against him. Perhaps this was it, the last days. Perhaps he was training the Prime Merlinian at that moment and had gotten into trouble that was less avoidable with another person. Her mind raced for an answer.

Soon afterwards she felt the release of Abigail Williams. Veronica barely had time to process this before she was flooded with sharp, strange light. There was a high-pitched laughter behind her, and then after that it was like falling headfirst into steel daggers. Everything hurt, even her hair.

"Veronica."

Then she was looking out through a pair of eyes over a park. However, she was looking at them through something else, almost like a film had been thrown over her. There was a detached feeling to her as she took in her surroundings. Horvath stood looking earnestly at her and she heard herself say;

"It's me Horvath, Morgana."

Horvath looked somewhat crestfallen, but it was nothing to what Veronica was feeling. Veronica was completely, totally, and utterly panicked. Morgana had control now; this complete fool had let her out. Furiously she tried to overthrow her captor, but Morgana brushed her aside like she was nothing.

"No need to look so pathetic," she sneered at Horvath.

_Get out, get out! _Veronica cried, shoving and tearing wildly inside of herself.

_Sorry my dear, but I've got a world to destroy, _Morgana laughed back, _And honestly, this body's better than being an astral projection. It's in rather good condition too. Perhaps I should just keep it. _

Veronica screamed in protest. It felt like she was insubstantial, just an extra passenger in her own body. She had no power anymore, no flesh, no magic. There was nothing that she could do to combat Morgana's take over. There was nothing she could do to prevent the Rising that was coming now, the rising that was the focal point to Morgana's attention. She could see nothing now except Latin script in her mind, nothing but the pentagram that was forming over this strange city.

Then she felt an opportunity. For whatever reason; the Rising was failing. Someone somewhere was doing something and she didn't feel like questioning it. The magic was backfiring and Veronica was going to have a chance to get her body back. She tensed just as the spell collapsed on herself.

Almost immediately she found herself in a struggle with the now somewhat weakened Morgana. It was painful, even more so than when she had first been let out of the Grimhold. They had both waited a long time to reenter the world for their own reasons, and both wanted desperately to be in it. However, Veronica had more to lose. Her determination gave her an edge so that the two were evenly matched, pushing and clawing at each other for control.

Then, as suddenly as their fight had started, it ended. Veronica felt herself rushing back into her flesh. It was an odd feeling after so many years away from it. There were all the different sensations that came with skin, namely an intense cold that probably carried over from the Grimhold. It took a supreme effort even to open her eyes again, an unfamiliar movement after so many years.

When she saw who it was who was holding her though, she felt a smile tug on her lips. The smile was gone before it started though. Balthazar was in pain, clutching his stomach and trying to keep himself from collapsing. Immediately she knew what had happened. In a blind panic she pushed herself up and cried;

"Balthazar, what have you done?"

He just looked at her. There was a fierce glint of love there, a look that she had grown accustomed to. Now though it was much more desperate.

"The same thing you did for me."

She reached out to touch his face, choking on the words that she had done that for him so that he wouldn't have to sacrifice himself. She was still fighting for words as a boy came running up. He looked about twenty and in the uncomfortable elation halfway between hysteria and adrenaline.

Veronica checked his hand for a ring; nothing. He wasn't a sorcerer then? It shocked her. It was unlike Balthazar to bring a defenseless person into a battle. When he asked the boy to put him in the Grimhold though; she didn't care that he was defenseless. His steadfast refusal made her want to hug him and she made sure that Balthazar knew her opinion as well with a firm;

"And nor will I."

His head tilted up and she felt her blood run cold when a venomous voice drawled;

"How _**sweet**_."

The next few minutes were a blur as Morgana left Balthazar. She attacked them and she felt Balthazar throw his body over hers. Then the fire moved around them and Veronica wagered a peek. The boy was standing in front of them, pushing away the fire. He looked as surprised as she was. It appeared that Balthazar **hadn't** brought anyone defenseless into the battle.

"No way," he said.

"It is you," Balthazar said, pride and satisfaction in his voice.

Veronica tilted her head next to her love's in awe. He'd found him, had done the impossible.

"The Prime Merlinian," hissed Morgana.

Her tactics changed and soon Veronica found herself fighting next to Balthazar like she had in the old days. However, just in the old days Morgana was more powerful than them. Even if Veronica had been completely prepared to do battle she still would've struggled. Now though, her shields were as effective against Morgana's plasma bolts as a piece of paper.

One hit her in the stomach and she staggered weakly. The next thing she knew she was being pushed to the side. She hit the ground and rolled for a minute, struggling to get up. The boy was standing in the fountain, on his feet now and starting to fulfill his destiny. Power was pouring off of him now, even if Morgana couldn't see it. He would succeed. Without another thought to the Prime Merlinian she started looking around for her love.

She found him a few feet away at the foot of the stairs. Veronica staggered to his side and shook him lightly. When he didn't respond she quickly took his pulse. There was nothing. With a horrible feeling mounting in her she checked his pulse again, listened for a heartbeat, felt for some signs of breathing. Nothing.

"Balthazar," she whispered softly, "Please…just…please…"

After all this time, after all this waiting, he was gone. All of those centuries and she had barely even touched him, said so little to him when she had so much to say. Tentatively she touched his face, murmuring his name, quieter each time until her words faded away. The cold was consuming her now and she had no strength to care much.

An icier feeling stabbed the sides of her cheeks. Veronica touched one of them and found that her fingers were wet. She took a deep breath and let the hand that wasn't stroking Balthazar's rapidly cooling face fall limply by her side. The last time she had cried she'd been nine, mourning the death of her family. She hadn't cried even when Merlin had died.

She could've laughed at the irony if she didn't feel so broken. All those years without crying and now she couldn't stop. Vaguely her mind registered footsteps running up to her. Veronica looked numbly up. The Prime Merlinian was there, slightly flushed from his victory. He was looking concerned though, and had obviously asked her something. All she could manage were the hollow words, strange;

"He's gone…he completed his quest."

She saw the depression on the boy's face, the desolation. Veronica sympathized. However, she couldn't bring herself to say anything else though and turned back to Balthazar's face. There was no strength in her to help with the sorrow of another. There was no strength left for anything, weak as that sounded.

One of her tears splashed on his face. There had been loss before, but not like this. It felt somewhat like when her family had gone, like there was no world anymore. Unlike then though, she wasn't a child. She didn't have that knowledge that there was a future out there somewhere. Could she even go on now? She doubted it. What was there left in her life now, now that her heart had been ripped out? It wasn't life, it was just existence.

"No. No, that's not good enough."

Turning around she saw the Prime Merlinian get up and stride down the stairs. He oozed determination as he said;

"If Morgana stopped his heart, maybe I can start it again."

Knowing that he was about to try something Veronica reluctantly got out of his way. She watched him summon up plasma bolts and scream phrases that she didn't understand. She understood what he was feeling. If she had the power than she would try anything, anything at all to try and bring him back. Finally though, even he had to admit defeat. He slumped back and Veronica looked silently to the ground.

"I had a dream," Balthazar mumbled.

Both of them looked up. Veronica clasped her hands in front of her face in a wordless prayer of thanks to the powers that be.

"You were insulting me," he said reproachfully, "repeatedly."

"Who, me?" asked the Prime Merlinian, shrugging.

"No, makes sense actually," he said, allowing the boy to help him up.

They exchanged a few more words and the Prime Merlinian shoved something into his hands. She couldn't find enough feeling in her feet to propel herself forward for those minutes until the Prime Merlinian ran off to answer someone who was calling his name. Veronica didn't pay much attention though. She only had eyes for the man who was making his way towards her.

Without a word he gently took her face in his hands and kissed her. She returned it with closed eyes, wanting him to understand the love that she still felt for him. Balthazar seemed to have the same aim in mind, staying close to her even after their lips no longer touched. When he pulled back completely she looked down at what was in his hands.

Veronica saw the necklace and recognized it instantly. For a moment she stared at it, letting the sight of it fill her soul as well as its implications. Then she smiled and pushed her hair away in quiet acceptance of the betrothal gift. He clasped it onto her neck quietly before leaning in for another kiss, this one much more passionate. She laid a kiss on his jaw before moving her head so that it was right next to his ear.

"You never needed to give me anything," she murmured, "Never even needed to ask."

"I wanted to do it properly."

"Well," she smiled, "You have."

"I always hoped that…in the end…" he said vaguely, "But at least…at least I was able to stay close to you."

She knew the truth of his words. He wasn't talking about a physical closeness, such a thing had been impossible. It was an emotional one, she could tell by the look in his eyes. Veronica smiled. Morgana, there had been no one else. It wasn't as though she had ever had a doubt but it still touched her that he'd carried that necklace with him for so long. Suddenly she shivered, the cold she had been feeling for centuries catching up with her.

"Cold?" he asked.

She nodded a little, reluctant to move away from him. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. Veronica was too weak to protest and accepted it gratefully. The smell of old leather, fire, and some sort of oily smell that she couldn't identify that came from it. If she concentrated she could just pick up plasma and smoke.

Still, he needed help as well. For support she wrapped her arms around his waist. Balthazar leaned into the contact gratefully and rested on arm on her shoulders. Just as she tucked her head into the crook of his neck there was a sudden noise behind them. Veronica turned her head, as did Balthazar. A squirrel darted across the grass. Balthazar chuckled again, a warm, wonderful sound.

"Squirrels," he said, "That's just about as dangerous as it gets right now."

.

.

.

The last of the dark dust that had once been Morgana blew away. It blew slowly in the air, twisting slowly. The dust flew across counties, states, and the ocean. Eventually it sunk into the ground outside of Glastonbury. It wormed its way down until it found a forgotten catacomb filled with bones.

Finally the dust found what it was looking for in a sealed stone coffin, grand and large in its design. Sinking underneath the stone lid, there was a small burst of green-black light. For a moment, the silence and stillness of the dead reigned once more. Inside the stone coffin though, a hand twitched slowly. After all, a millennia is a long time to acquire rigor mortis.


	2. Chapter 2

"What's this?" asked Veronica, staring with both doubt and curiosity at his car.

"Ahhh," he said, the syllable warbling awkwardly, "A car."

He rubbed the back of his neck, knowing that the two words hadn't been adequate. Balthazar had had to take his arm off of her shoulder to do it. The other was holding Horvath's cane, which he had found on the way there. The blue jewel had been removed from the top, but the other rings were still there. He unlocked the door and put it in the back, quickly enchanting it so it would stay hidden.

Wrapping the coat tighter around herself and raising her eyebrows she said;

"Which is?"

Balthazar searched for words. He knew he shouldn't be skirting around her question and at least try to explain the car for what it was. Veronica had always been smart and looking to learn, God it was good to have her so near again, but he was also extremely tired. Still, he decided to make a good effort. Opening the door for her he said bluntly;

"A machine that helps people travel; powered by utilizing the forces of friction and controlled explosions."

Realizing how that last part must have sounded to her, her eyes did get rather a bit wider, he quickly added;

"But it's perfectly safe."

Looking at him skeptically she tentatively got in. He was in for an ordeal. Her inquisitive nature gave him a glaring problem; he hadn't really thought about how to explain to her the intricacies of modern life. The last time he had thought about explaining anything at all was back when Richard the Lionheart had become king. After that it had just been too depressing to think too much about the details of an after.

It wasn't like the question hadn't tiptoed into his mind rather strongly over the last week or so though. There had just been so much going on and he'd had to concentrate on training Dave. When he had finally allowed himself to indulge in thinking about freeing her, it had been to scribble a note and gently place a necklace on a counter.

Now he found himself vaguely wondering about their future. How he was supposed to explain something like, say, a T.V? The problem was only compounded when he helped her buckle in. The seatbelts had never been part of the car, but after the tumultuous drive with Lacy and Robin seventy-one years earlier he had felt the need to install them. It wasn't as though anyone used them though.

"Are you afraid I'm going to run away?" she asked, amused, as the buckle clicked into place.

"It's just for safety," he explained.

Upon starting up the car he felt her jump.

"A little weird right now, I know," he laughed, "But really, you shouldn't worry about it. They all do this."

Veronica's eyes narrowed. Balthazar wasn't sure what caused it; the suspicion that he was lying to her or the laugh. Eventually her eyes returned to their normal size. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder soon after. He had to utilize all of his very substantial willpower not to drive into the curb.

"You aren't concerned about him?" she asked absently.

"Who?"

She laughed.

"The Prime Merlinain of course. He did leave so soon."

"What, Dave?" he asked skeptically.

"Dave then," she laughed again.

"Nah," he answered, "the fact that he could get the eagle to take off at all means he'll be fine piloting it. Landing'll probably be kinda hard though…nearly broke my leg first time **I **tried it and I made the damn thing."

"So I suppose that flying metal eagles are not as common as cars?" she asked teasingly.

"God no. The air traffic would be horrendous."

"Air…traffic…?" she asked, "There are other things that fly?"

"Another time."

Veronica tilted her head.

"I know that a lot has been going on," she said slowly, "I don't mean to ask so many questions. But it's hard not to…so many lights…it was never this bright at night no matter where we were, magic or no…"

Trailing off she turned and looked outside of the window. Eager to reassure her Balthazar answered honestly;

"I'd be a little worried if you didn't. Things tended to creep its way up on me, so I haven't really noticed how different everything is. I can't imagine what it's like for you. Right now though…right now I'm just glad to be hearing your voice again."

She smiled at him and he felt something inside him melt. All that time fighting powerful sorcerers and searching the world had hardened him. He had felt every one of his thirteen hundred years weighing down on him. It was strange how all it took was one smile to make him feel young again.

"So am I beloved," she murmured.

There was so much that she didn't know about, so much that he took for granted that would be strange to her. He had to fight a sigh until he felt her delicate fingers start to creep from his shoulder to his neck. Balthazar shook his head and smiled faintly. Those questions would have to wait. For right now he needed to do something that he hadn't done in over a millennia; live in the moment.

After driving for a little longer he stopped in the parking lot of a Holiday Inn. It wasn't exactly glamorous, but he needed something fast and didn't have a lot of options. Balthazar, despite appearances, had a good deal of money. Interest rates had accumulated when he hadn't been paying attention and he'd been putting money aside since the whole mess started. At the time he had seen it simply as something that had been necessary for transportation. Now he was glad he had; it was something for them to have now.

The real reason they were there though was that there was no way he was bringing her to Dave's lab. Even though he'd been sleeping there for the past few days there was an obvious lack of decent bedding. Also, with one thing and another, they had never really cleaned it up after the fight with Horvath and Drake. If he had the strength, the energy, the will to do one thing that night; it was to make sure that Veronica didn't spend her first night of freedom in a busted old subway turnaround.

The hotel clerk did look at them a little oddly when he came in. By the time he got to the counter though she had the odd plastic look of every hotel clerk. There it remained while he rented a room. However, she was probably used to getting strange guests at two o'clock in the morning. Balthazar booked a room with ease, using a credit card with his most normal name; Nicholas Smith. Despite what internet might say, how many people did you run into that were** actually** named John Smith?

Veronica kept silent about the elevator that they climbed in. He would've taken the stairs, but now every joint ached. She did stumble a little when it started but quickly regained her composure with an air of studied indifference. He smiled a little as he drowsily counted room numbers until he found theirs. Taking the key out of the pocket he slipped it into the slot and used it to get into the room.

The next few minutes were a murmured explanation of light switches, a vague warning about remotes, and generalities of the bathroom faucets and facilities. He spent the most time there. It was the most practical, since she'd probably need them first. She watched with interest as he turned on the tap and water came out, if not a little wary. Nodding to show understanding she moved off to look at the rest of the room. Balthazar went to follow her before stopping.

Cautiously he looked around at his reflection and winced. He looked like hell. Deciding to at least appear to be somewhat human he splashed some water on his face and dried it off. A proper shower would have to wait until later though, as would a change of clothes. Balthazar reexamined his face skeptically in the mirror. Perhaps he'd have a shave too; he had all but forgotten about that for a long time indeed.

He left the bathroom to see Veronica folding up her dress. She was only wearing the necklace and the chemise that had been underneath the gown, and he felt his ears grow hot. By modern day standards the chemise was a modest gown in of itself…but he couldn't help but keep some of the standards from the middle ages. Cocking her head towards him she smiled again and put her dress on a chair. One of her fingers traced the silver and lilac cloth tenderly.

"It's been so long, but it's still intact," she said vaguely.

He wondered in that moment if she was remembering Morgause, her second mother who had made the dress and died creating the prison for Morgana that she'd shared. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Veronica's fingers continued to trace vague patterns on the cloth.

"She was the only woman other than Mary that I told how I felt about you," she said, "The dress was meant to be our betrothal gift. It came a few centuries early I suppose."

Balthazar gripped her tighter but didn't say anything. This was the first that he had heard about either of those things. She maneuvered away so that she could look back at him. Veronica smiled briefly before escaping his arms and proceeding to untuck the bedclothes. Mildly she looked back at him.

"You must be tired," she said, pulling back the comforter.

"Uhhh," he managed.

Veronica sighed and got in.

"There's only one bed," she said, "And it's rather late at night to play the gentleman my love."

He shrugged helplessly and removed his fingerless gloves. From past experience he had learned that his vest was uncomfortable to sleep in so he took that off along with his shoes. Feeling extremely odd he crawled in beside her. Veronica smiled again, this time a little more tiredly, at his actions.

"All this time," she murmured, inching closer and tucking her head into his neck, "and you still get so…nervous around me…"

"I can't help it," he said, trying to keep his breathing even, "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen you know."

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards as she snuggled closer to him. One of his arms lay across her back and pulled her as close as possible. The other rested on her necklace, fingering it and thinking how beautiful it looked on her pale skin. It suited her, it really did, and he felt pleasure from his choice and the meaning behind it.

"Did you honestly think that I'd say no in the park?" she asked sleepily, "You should've seen your face…when I first saw it."

"Not exactly…but still," he smiled, "I have to admit, before you moved your hair for it, you did scare me."

"So did you," she replied, sliding her hand onto the middle of his chest, "There wasn't a beat here. Can you…do you know what that felt like?"

Balthazar was quiet. Leaning his forehead into hers he said;

"Once upon a time I said I'd never leave you," he said, "I still stand by that."

"I know," she mumbled.

Veronica sighed and tucked her chin under his head. Tenderly he kissed her forehead. Her skin felt cool under his lips, just like he knew that his skin must feel hot to her.

"Good night my love," she murmured, her voice drifting off.

Balthazar kissed her lightly on the lips before closing his own eyes. It had been a long night, and they had both earned their rest.


	3. Chapter 3

"Where's that?"

"Three down from the top. What do you think?"

"What are…how do you say that?"

"Crepes."

"Corps?"

"No, crepes."

"I'm not going to be able to say that right."

"Just try. Crepes."

"Creayps."

"No, getting closer though. Cray-ps."

Dave rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the menu again. He didn't know why he bothered since he couldn't read it. He and his girlfriend, yes she was his **girlfriend**, were sitting in a small café in Paris. The eagle was perched on top of an ornate skyscraper, so he figured it would go unnoticed for at least another hour or so.

"Creeps," he tried.

"You're getting it wrong on purpose," Becky said lowering her menu suspiciously.

"Yeah, well, I did warn you. I wasn't the one who took a year of French," he said defensively, "I was stuck with German."

"It's not like I'm asking you to say; 'Pourquoi est-ce que mon chéri ne peut pas dire un mot simple en français?' or anything," she said, rolling her eyes, "It's just one little word, and you don't even have to say it through your nose."

"You say things in French through your nose?"

"Sometimes," Becky shrugged, "They're insanely common too. Even street vendors sell these in New York."

"I don't get out much," he answered.

"I can believe that."

Dave looked at her and saw nothing but her innocent eyes staring back at him. Sighing he decided that it was best to just give up. There was no fighting her, and he was exhausted. He had **not** expected the eagle to jerk like that when it landed. If he hadn't moved when he had then he probably would've ended up with a broken leg.

Luckily it hadn't had the urge to try and do that when Becky had gotten off. He suspected that this was on purpose. Perhaps it was Balthazar's anti-theft device or maybe someone of his twisted humor had rubbed off on it. Of course, it had resulted in Becky rushing over and asking him if he was alright in a concerned tone. In other words; not a total loss.

"What are these anyway?"

"You've really never had them?" she asked, "You have no idea what you're missing."

"Well no, since I don't know what they are."

"They're really thin pancakes stuffed with fruit and sugar," said Becky.

"Yeah…about that…" he said sheepishly, "I'm gluten intolerant. For a while I was lactose intolerant and allergic to peanuts too. Not a good time in my life. Grew out of those, not the gluten one though."

"Huh."

"Yeah. I've got to go to a special sandwich shop and everything."

"There's a gluten-free option," Becky replied, scanning the menu.

She flagged a waiter down, who came over immediately. Dave had a nagging suspicion that the service wouldn't have been so quick if he'd tried to get it. He also had the feeling that it probably would've been even quicker if he hadn't been there. With confidence Becky smiled sweetly and said;

"J'aimerais les crêpes aux fraises et à la crème fouettée et deux grands cafés, s'il vous plaît.."

"Oui."

The waiter collected their menus and strode into the back.

"I got the extra-large portion to share for the crepe virgin," she said.

"Very funny."

Becky smiled.

"Definitely the best second date ever," she said.

"I'm happy about that," Dave said

He was glad that he had still had his international debit card in his pocket during the battle with Morgana. It would've been embarrassing if he had been forced to have her pay. Her hand reached over the table and touched his. He knew he was blushing from the amused look in Becky's eyes.

"You know," she said, her hand gripping his slightly, "we're probably going to have to go right back after this."

"Probably," he answered, trying to gather his wits despite the contact.

They had kissed only a few hours earlier and here he was acting like a teenager with his first girlfriend. Admittedly he wasn't exactly experienced and he had just gotten out of his teenage years. Even so he felt like he could've managed something that didn't let her know either of these facts.

"Even with the six hour time difference things are going to be kinda weird," he heard himself say.

"Are you sure it's six hours?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"How do you know that?"

"The latitude of Paris is 48 degrees so it's pretty simple when you take into account that New York is at 40 degrees…" his voice trailed off.

Dave gave a small cough.

"I'm being geeky, aren't I?"

"Yes," Becky said frankly, "but in a cute way."

"Thanks for lying."

"No problem."

The waiter materialized and placed a pot of coffee and two mugs in front of them. Dave felt the urge to drink his coffee black, it was only eight in Paris making it two for him. However, he had tried it earlier that week when he felt that he could use the extra boost to take the extreme amount of hits from plasma bolts and the like. It hadn't been a pleasant experience and this time he tempered it with cream and sugar.

"Not taking time difference into account though," he said, stirring it all together, "It's really late for us. I'm not sure about you but I haven't slept in way too long. It's not like I took a nap in the afternoon even."

"I would've but curiously enough I didn't know that I was going to be up late to help save the world from being overrun by evil undead sorcerers," she agreed.

"Life's odd like that."

"No need to be sarcastic."

"That was sarcastic?"

"A touch," said Becky, cupping her mug with two hands and taking a long sip, "You know, I had no idea about the gluten."

"It's just that it…well that it's a little fussy," Dave said, "I've got so many different things that are pretty unattractive about myself that I wasn't in a hurry to highlight them."

"You're being hard on yourself," she said, cocking her head to the side.

"Not really," he said, "I mean, I'm even dorkier than I was when I was ten. I mean, before I had the nervous breakdown and all."

"Sorry, but I thought the little light show in Battery Park was all about how you **didn't **have a nervous breakdown, or glucose imbalance, or whatever."

"No," answered Dave, "But you didn't know that before yesterday."

"Point taken."

"I couldn't tell you about that before. I'm guessing you don't have any weird allergies," he laughed, trying to hide his embarrassment, "so you might not be able to understand."

"…not exactly."

"Really?" he asked, interested, "You've got one?"

"Yeah," Becky said, "I've got one."

"What for?"

She leaned forward as though imparting a great secret. Curiously Dave copied the gesture until she was close to his ear.

"Chocolate," she said shyly.

Dave pulled back and looked at her in surprise.  
"Chocolate?"

"Chocolate," she confirmed, "Or more specifically the cocoa butter in chocolate. It makes me break out in hives that last for a minimum of three days. Depends on the type; white's the worst and darks's the best. Milk chocolate is pretty ambiguous though."

"Wow…huh," he said grinning, "Guess I'm going to have to be pretty creative for Valentine's day then."

"It's not funny," she said, although she was grinning too, "Do you know the number of times people have tried to give me chocolate without knowing? I can't even have chocolate chip cookies without something happening. I mean, the number of times I've had to refuse a gift, it's just ridiculous."

"Vos crêpes, madame," the waiter said, returning and placing the plate in between the two of them.

"Merci," she said, looking down at the creamy log with strawberries on it hungrily.

"Are you sure this is breakfast food?" asked Dave skeptically.

"I'm sure," she answered.

"It looks like a dessert."

"People eat tarts for breakfast," she said, rolling her eyes again as she cut a piece, "And no one says anything about that."  
"Well, I can't eat any sugar this early. It's because of my glucose imbalance."

Becky sighed in defeat then looked up sharply. Dave started to laugh while she glared at him. The next thing he knew the portion she had cut off was being shoved into his mouth. He chewed it thoughtfully as she placed the fork next to his setting and took his own. Swallowing he grinned at her.

"You know," he said, "This isn't half bad."

"Told you so."

"I think it would be better with some chocolate though."

"Don't. Go. There."

.

.

.

Inside the crypt its only sentient occupant was working on moving its arm. Even the parasites that had once lived in his body had died, but he remained. In life he had never been particularly patient, but death had allowed him to appreciate the need for waiting. So with great determination he lifted his fingers until they were all pointing upwards. He held it there for about forty seconds until they fell backwards, exhausted.

The occupant let his eyes twitch to look at his hand. Then he tried it again with his other, non-dominant hand. This one lasted only thirty seconds before it lost its strength. These movements weren't much, not much at all. They were the only thing he could do though, and they were a start. Yes, this was the start.

_**A/N: **__And now we've got some Dave/Becky, or Decky, or whatever you want to call it. Yes, Balthazar/Veronica (Balonica *laughs*) are still my favorite couple. But I like them too and I think that the movie wouldn't have been quite so poignant without it. Besides, it's great literary symmetry. _

_I also don't speak French. Originally I used Bing Translator for this, but then Fishyicon came and corrected it. Thanks for that. ;)_


	4. Chapter 4

"So what time is it now latitude genius?" asked Becky teasingly.

"It's five a.m," Dave said, getting his keys out so he could unlock the doors to the lab.

"Five ten," she corrected.

"Your watch is off then," he grinned.

He opened the door. The previous day Dave had left his backpack there and his afternoon classes would turn out to be a little awkward without it. Becky had accompanied him since it was on her way home and the eagle was already safely perched back on top of the Chrysler building. No use in giving a girl a ride home in landmark.

To his surprise he saw Balthazar flipping intently through the Incantus with a suitcase by his feet. He looked up sharply when Dave and Becky came in, only to relax when he saw it was them. Contrariwise Becky tensed up slightly when she saw it was **him**. Ignoring this, or just not noticing it, Balthazar redirected his attention to the Incantus.

"Morning Dave," he said, "How was Paris?"

"Sunny," Dave said, vaguely, "and apparently they eat craps."

"Crepes," Becky said, wincing as she corrected him.

"I wouldn't know. Haven't been there since a brief stay in 1943 myself," he admitted, "And there was this interesting little event going on with Germany which completely ruined the city of lights."

"How old are you exactly?" Becky asked, confusion overcoming apprehension, "I thought you said you were Dave's uncle."

There was a pause before Balthazar burst out laughing. Dave gave a small cough.

"No relation," he said, "Really."

"Then why-?"

"Just trying to allay suspicion," Balthazar said, "And embarrass him out of his mind. You should've seen the look on his face."

"I did."

"Anyway," Dave said loudly, "to sum things up he's not my uncle and I didn't need anti-itch cream."

"That was a pretty good one," smiled Balthazar fondly before turning to Becky, "I'm his Master, Balthazar Blake."

"Nice to meet you," she said, "Becky Barnes."

His eyebrows furrowed for a second, as though he were trying to remember something. Becky looked uncomfortable, and in order to fill the silence Dave said;

"He owned the Arcana Cabana."

"Still own actually," interjected Balthazar, smirking, "They sold it before the ten years required for proof of my being dead were up. Legally it's still mine. Just need to sort some things out…probably pay the current owners an unreasonable amount of money too…"

"I guess that makes sense then," said Becky, "the Arcana Cabana bit anyway, since apparently it wasn't a glucose imbalance."

"Was that what you were telling people?" snorted Balthazar, crossing his arms, "Quacks these days. Doesn't matter if you don't know what it is, gotta get paid. If they put the word glucose or imbalance in it then they're set. One that got you must've gotten a raise for combining the two."

"Whatever," said Dave, feeling uncomfortable around the subject of the many hospitals he'd visited as a child, "Um, where's Veronica?"

Balthazar's eyebrows raised.

"You thought I'd bring her back to this dump?" he asked, "Dave, Dave. Last thing I want is for her to think I've been living here or anything."

"But you** have** been living here," pointed out Dave.

The look that Balthazar fixed on him would've withered any plants in the area.

"All the more reason not to bring her," Balthazar said, "I just came back to check the Incantus. Look, you're in here."

Cautiously, he hadn't at all liked the picture that had been of him in the Incantus that had described the fight with Sun-Lok, he peered at the picture. To his relief he didn't see himself screaming, instead he saw Balthazar fighting Horvath, himself driving the car, the pentagram hovering over New York, and Becky smashing a satellite with a well-aimed kick. Dave grinned and waved her over.

"Nice," he said.

"What's this?" she asked, sounding confused.

"The Incantus," Balthazar said, "It contains the history of magic. Looks like you made it in, and taking up six pages no less."

He flipped the page forwards and Becky's eyes widened when she saw it. Dave looked down at that page. There was a caption under it and text, but he didn't bother reading it. The illustration showed him standing in the middle of the fountain zapping Morgana with electricity. He smiled. The Incantus had managed to do the one thing that no picture of him had been able to do in the past; make him look cool.

"That's what you were doing?" she asked.

He saw now that she was concerned and he tried to shrug it off.

"It's just like the Tesla coils," he said.

"Which," Balthazar pointed out, "are a wreck. If you actually want to graduate you might want to consider fixing them."

Dave glared at him and Balthazar laughed. Absently Becky turned the next page. The illustration was split. One side showed him and Becky walking towards the steel eagle. The other showed Balthazar limping slightly as though he were exhausted. Veronica stood by him, his black coat over her shoulders. His hand was wrapped around her shoulders and hers were around his waist. Her head was tilted so that it rested comfortably in the crook of his neck.

Becky smiled gently at it, letting out a small sigh. He had explained about Veronica and Balthazar during the car ride to Battery Park. It had been an attempt to convince her to stay behind, to show her that if Balthazar was leaving the necklace with him than things really were getting bad. She hadn't listened though, and apparently thought it was rather romantic.

"Well I'll be," Balthazar said, shaking his head.

"What?" asked Dave.

"Nothing, just a bit of déjà vu," he said, "Anyway, here's a friendly warning; every Incantus in the world has now been updated. Every sorcerer will know that you defeated Morgana. I managed to hide the fact that the Prime Merlinian was found but now…let's just say your training certainly isn't over."

"Great," mumbled Dave, "More opportunities to get hurt and-"

"No interrupting," Balthazar interrupted, "Now let me finish. But despite that you're getting three weeks off. What you did with Morgana wasn't bad, and I'm pretty sure you're probably at least half as exhausted as I am."

Dave blinked.

"That's three weeks for me to get the Arcana Cabana back," he said, "introduce Veronica to modern life, and for you to repair these and get back to something called school. I hear it's important these days. But I want you to read until 240 A.D in the Incantus, understood?"

"Totally, yeah."

"See you then," Balthazar said, shutting the book with a loud thump and picking up the suitcase, "And you might want to learn how to make this pocket-sized. It's going to be hell carting it around."

"But can't you just do that for-?"

"**Goodbye **Dave."

.

.

.

Veronica kept her eyes closed, although she was already awake. She had been blessed with clarity all her life, allowing her to belay the momentary confusion that normally followed those waking up. Besides, there had been no rest for her in the Grimhold. Where she was now was completely different and she knew it.

Smiling she reached out to where Balthazar had been. She had missed the feel of his arms around her, and supposed that he must have rolled away in his sleep. Veronica frowned for a minute when she couldn't feel him, and then opened her eyes. Her frown deepened when she saw that he wasn't there at all, and the space that he had occupied was now cold.

Pushing the covers off so that they sat on her waist she sat up. There was no light under the bathroom door, so he couldn't be there. An odd leather box with a handle had appeared in the corner, but she couldn't remember if it had been there the night before or not. His coat was gone too, but that could mean anything. She bit her lip a little and waited, sure that he had gone out for only a minute.

By the time that twenty minutes had passed Veronica was getting worried. She was feeling cold now too, and the chemise wasn't designed to keep her warm. When the door finally opened she whipped her head around and saw Balthazar trying to balance three plates piled with the oddest assortment of food that she had ever seen. He stared at her.

"You're up," he said, letting the door close behind him and sounding embarrassed, "I didn't mean to be out for so long. Just fixing a few things up and raiding the complimentary breakfast bar…"

She raised an eyebrow. He laughed awkwardly and levitated the plates over to the small coffee table. Feeling a little foolish, there was no reason to be on the alarm after all, Veronica slipped out from underneath the covers and sat down again on the couch. Balthazar sat next to her and frowned when he put his arm over her shoulders.

"Are you alright?" he asked, "You shouldn't be this cold. The air-conditioning didn't turn on did it?"

Before she could answer he shook his head.

"Don't answer that, or try to," he grinned, "but maybe we could get you something warmer. Clothing's really changed in the past few years so you can't go out in that dress anymore…well maybe you can, it **is **New York, but we might have to figure something out before we can get you some new clothes."

"Why don't I just borrow some of yours?" she asked, "I can make them look a little different or something."

His face turned red.

"You said that just to embarrass me, didn't you?"

Veronica kissed his cheek.

"No, I'm being practical," she said, "And red really does suit you."

He shook his head. Veronica leaned a little closer and looked at the food. She didn't know where to begin. She hadn't eaten in so many years that she had all but forgotten what food tasted like. If she concentrated she could remember that marchpane was much sweeter in flavor than say, bread, but she really had to think about it.

"Anything new on this?' she asked.

"The muffins," he said, "The ones that look like uneven, lumpy little loaves of bread."

"So much to learn," she said, tilting her head, "I always did enjoy learning."

Veronica turned to him and smiled.

"And believe me when I say I want to know everything."

"I gave my apprentice three weeks off," he answered, "That's enough to make a good start."


	5. Chapter 5

"Is this a joke?"

Balthazar suppressed the urge to laugh. He was glad that he had decided to practice this one in the newly-reclaimed Arcana Cabana than in a restaurant. The previous owners had been only too happy to part with it. The store had been losing money, and he had explained that they could actually go to jail for a very long time. At least he had offered them a decent sum of money after scaring them witless.

The living area upstairs was still sparsely furnished, but he had at least been able to some of the more necessary things. Namely, and rather importantly, he'd gotten a table set. One of the chairs was somewhat rickety, but he was planning on fixing that later. There was only so much one could do in a week and a half. For now though he watched in rapt attention as his fiancé struggled with her latest shocking aspect of modern life.

Originally he thought that the biggest trouble they were going to have been with clothing stores. Veronica had taken it upon herself to do a little research beforehand though, which had actually managed to convince him of a higher power. He had been dreading questions about female clothing, not to mention actually going into one of those ungodly places.

Veronica had managed to surprise him though. She had taken the concept of pants for women in stride for one. There had been times in the past where she had needed to wear a pair, and she had pointed out that she had personally thought that it was only a matter of time before women rebelled. Even so it wasn't like she had bought many pairs, sticking mainly to the more familiar skirts and dresses.

Still, her clothing selections were somewhat haphazard and careless. Many of the shirts were baggy while being long-sleeved, and many of the skirts reached her ankles. Veronica had always seemed satisfied with whatever gowns she had been given, making them last or wearing them until they fell apart. The idea of discarding clothing appalled her, so she went for durability. Small steps, especially since he wasn't one to talk about clothing.

The real trouble lay with the little things, things that most people did without even thinking about them. Veronica could figure out the bigger things, and he thought that he had explained the new-fangled democracy pretty well. Reading had been difficult though, as had a few of the modern terms.

Her way of speaking was different; her accent what had been northern English back then but what now sounded more Italian. Of course at one point British had sounded like what Americans did today. Apparently in Australia, though he himself hadn't been often, they sounded like the cockney slang of Victorian London. Things changed.

"No, not at all," he said, bringing himself back to the situation on hand, "I'm serious about this."

"I don't understand," she declared, "How could one…why would you even need to…why couldn't they have been content with a knife?"

"Because after a few years people got tired of cutting their lips," explained Balthazar, "Forks were an eastern invention and people were grateful for it."

"I can believe that," she said, "Exotic things come from there. I can't believe there's so much pepper around these days for example."

"Well, food tends to taste terrible without it around. But forks are more practical."

"They're ridiculous, **that's** what they are," she said, stabbing a piece of meat at an awkward angle.

There was some more random stabbing on the plate. Veronica was holding it at an awkward angle despite all of his attempts to correct her. It was very wrong, but he had a feeling he was going to get heartburn form holding in the laughter. From the look on her face she knew it as well, and she didn't like it.

"Wait until you see chopsticks," he said.

"What did you say?" she said, looking up sharply, "They needed more than three different utensils?"

"Sort of," he laughed, "Look, it's not as bad as you're making it out to be."

"It's still ridiculous," she said, "How many different utensils could one possibly need?"

He decided that now was not the time to tell her about the different types of forks and knives for fish and dessert. Instead he lost the battle to laughter as she discarded the fork and picked up the knife again. Veronica glared at him for a minute before she finally managed to get the last of the food into her mouth.

"Now I think I'm quite done with that," she said.

Her nose wrinkled.

"But I have to use that mint paste now."

"It's better than going to the dentist, believe me," answered Balthazar, "That's one thing that hasn't changed at all. Wish to hell it had."  
"Then I will use the mint paste," she said, pushing her chair in, "But I refuse to use the candle wick."

"It's called floss."

"It's a candle wick made thinner," she said stoutly, "If you had some wax I'd make a candle with it and prove it."

"Maybe another time," he laughed.

.

.

.

"So there were Stone Age sorcerers?" asked Becky.

They were out on Dave's roof, reading from the Incantus. Well, he was reading from it and she was looking over his shoulder. She had brought her physics homework to do with her, but she had long since finished it. Now she seemed to be staying for the sole purpose of distracting him.

"Apparently," Dave said, looking down at the page of the Incantus and feeling that the illustrations were like an episode of _The Flinstones_, "And they used bits of bone for rings. They were the pioneers of the let's-cut-a-hole-in-the-patient's-head-and-release-the-evil-spirits school of learning."

"And here I was thinking that was just gruesome."

"No, apparently there were actually spirits trapped in there," he said, turning the page to reveal a black apparition coming out of a man's head, "Fusion spells were more widely known then, or an original crude version."

"Learn something new every day," she said, giving him a strained smile.

Dave frowned at her. She had been acting off since the beginning of her visit to his apartment. When she had first announced that she was coming over for a study session two days ago he had been in a full-blown panic. The idea of her coming into the lab had horrified him enough into cleaning it manually that first time and magically the second, although that had been a catastrophe.

From her reaction when she came in he had initially worried that she had figured out how recently he had scrubbed and sanitized it. His hands were still raw since he'd learned better than to use magic. Not to mention that he had received absolutely no help from an amused Bennet. Tank had seemed determined to sabotage his efforts as well, drooling everywhere and tracking muddy paws in right where Dave had just cleaned. In the end though, he had been rather pleased about his efforts.

It soon became apparent that that wasn't what was wrong, since she had said he was much neater than she thought guys were. Bennet had snorted and Dave had had to shoot daggers his way to shut him up. He had made sure beforehand that his roommate knew that if he in any way sabotaged him then he'd kill him.

Thinking logically he had moved onto the next possible option. So he had asked her if she was sick, or perhaps allergic to the air freshener. Becky had shrugged off the question though, denying it but not going into details. As the day progressed she seemed to act a little more worried, although there were stretches of a few minutes where she seemed to forget whatever it was that was on her mind.

He wasn't a brave person by any means. He'd felt amazing in Chinatown certainly, but he'd been riding the waves of doing magic, being perfectly sane, and not dying. Battery Park had been the only part of his life when he had felt like was a real hero fighting for truth, justice, and the survival of humanity. Now that he was confronted with something as necessary to a relationship as finding out if something was wrong with the girl he cared about though he had gone back to being a coward.

Steeling himself he tried to put on his best concerned face. The effect was probably more akin to a puppy that had been kicked, but he hoped it would do the trick. It had certainly worked for times in his life when he'd tried to find out if something had been wrong with his mother, but he did try to banish that association. He reached out his hand and took hers.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"I told you I'm fine," she said, "I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

She looked down when she said it though. From being a bad liar Dave had a pretty good idea when he was being lied to. He frowned a little and reached out to touch the side of her face. Becky looked up and Dave swallowed. What he was about to say had to be phrased very carefully indeed.

"If something's wrong," he said cautiously, "you can tell me. You really can. I want to be there for you, I really do."

Becky bit her lip. Pausing for a minute she said;

"It's personal, real personal. Family stuff."

He waited patiently for her to go on.

"You…I don't want…" she said, shaking her head, "I just want to forget all about it right now."

"That's cool," Dave said, amazed at how well he'd handled the situation, "But, and I can't remember which therapist told me this, avoidance techniques rarely work. Forgetting about things doesn't necessarily make it better."

She blinked at him. He winced inwardly as he played back the last few words in his head. Yeah, he'd blown it.

"But if you don't want to talk about it," he added hurriedly, "Then we don't have to. I just want you to know that I'm here when, or if, you feel like doing it. I'll be here to listen if you want me to be."

Sighing Becky moved a little closer to him. Her head rested on his shoulder and she closed her eyes.

"Thank you."


	6. Chapter 6

A woman walked into the main room of Drake Stone's penthouse. She wore a forensics uniform, and two men behind her wore police uniforms. Her eyes slowly took in the caution tape streaming from the walls, and the two chalk outlines on the floor. Carefully she sidestepped them and stood in the middle of the room.

"You were right to call me in," she said, "How long ago? It feels like two weeks…"

"That's what we figure," one of the policemen said.

The forensics woman rubbed her chin thoughtfully and continued examining the room However, what she was doing was most certainly not forensics. No forensics expert would have, for instance, taken out a packet of cigarettes, lit one, and taken a deep drag. They definitely wouldn't have it with fire that came from their fingertips either. She inhaled deeply again before crouching down on the floor.

"This Drake Stone guy," the other policeman said, "He wasn't powerful enough to do something like this, not even to have it backfire on him."

"I know," she said, "We wrote him off as harmless, not worth the effort, bringing him down would bring too much attention, yadda yadda yadda. So you're right, definitely someone else. Feels familiar, and that's not good."

"Why's that?"

She gave a wry smile over her shoulder.

"Every Morganian sorcerer I've helped bring down or brought down myself is dead," she said, "All save one, and trust me when I say I hope I'm wrong."

She turned away from them and continued looking around the apartment. After a minute or two fhe first policeman cleared his throat respectfully.

"Ma'am," he said, "Does this have anything to do with what happened at Battery Park?"

"Well it's too much of a coincidence if it didn't," she snapped, "And the other body, Abigail Williams right?"

"Yes."

"Grimhold prisoner," she muttered to herself, "Grimhold prisoners getting out isn't a good sign, that old bastard would've never allowed it."

No one interrupted the woman's monologue.

"So," she said, now addressing the other two, "What we have here is a little mystery. First we get a surge from Chinatown, and we get told a firecracker explodes by the news? Yeah right. Then there was that little…ripple…in the subway, then this, and then the Prime Merlinian defeats Morgana in Battery Park. Either they're all the same story, or there was a lot more to that particular tale."

"The Incantus didn't mention Chinatown-" one started.

"Not ours anyway," she said, taking another drag from her cigarette, "It doesn't even have everything about Morgana being killed, just shows the Prime Merlinian zapping her. Good thing it left out his name though."

Irritably she crushed the cigarette into the wood of the floor. Wiping her fingers on the carpet she reached into her inside pocket and took out a map of New York. She spread it out on the floor and then went for a small drawstring pouch at her side. Taking it off of her belt she reached inside it. Very delicately she made her palm lie flat before blowing on it, scattering the sand from it across the room.

The sand, instead of falling on the floor, twisted and flowed with the air. The two men behind her shifted from one foot to the other. One of them looked towards the door, where another woman waited. She nodded at him and he went back to paying attention to the currents and eddies in the sand.

"Come on," she said, "Come on…not enough time to go cold…"

It settled on Battery Park briefly before flowing back into the woman's hand. She swore to herself before putting it back into the pouch. With a flick of her hand the map folded in on itself and returned to her pocket. She lit another cigarette thoughtfully and took a sharp breath in. One of the policemen nudged the other one.

"Something else you should know ma'am," he said, "One of the eagles on top of the Chrysler building went missing for a while."

Her cigarette froze right before her lips.

"It's back now but-"

"Of course," she interrupted, laughing and running her hand through her short hair, "Of course. Stands to reason…of course."

She stood up and turned to the two others. Grinning mischievously she said;

"Only other lead is the thing that happened in the subway. I know you must've at least scrubbed Chinatown dry. I'll go check it out."

.

.

.

Becky closed the book she was reading and looked at her watch. Her train was late. Though the flashing announcement on the wall assured her it would quickly correct this it had done nothing of the kind. There wasn't anyone else on the platform, a little unusual for this hour. She looked at her watch again. She wasn't in a particular need to go anywhere, but she was thinking that getting home and collapsing wasn't a bad idea.

Tentatively she took out her cell phone as it vibrated. Biting her lip nervously she flipped to the inbox. It had two messages in it. One was from her friend and fellow pre-law major, probably asking about the homework she had forgotten. The other…the other she deleted without looking at it before shoving the phone back into her pocket.

"You know," a voice said, rather uncomfortably close to her ear, "They probably should've sent someone who wasn't so easily distracted."

Becky yelped and got up. She turned around to see a man leaning across the top of the bench. His lips were curled into a sneer. Very slowly she reached into her other pocket, the one where she carried the mace.

"Little sorceress scared?" he asked.

"I'm not-" she started, half shocked at the insinuation and half furious at being scared like that.

"Shut it," he said, "I assume you found the equivalence point?"

"The wha-?" she asked, bringing her hand slowly forward.

"Did they just teach you to deny everything?"

Without answering Becky thrust up the mace and hit him full in the eyes. He screamed and Beck was treated to the force of the blowback from the mace. Grabbing her bag she hurtled towards the stairs, not sure what had just happened or what was going on, but knowing that she was going to get out of there as fast as possible.

"You little-!"

A force threw her to the staircase and she fell. The man was still clutching his eyes with one hand, but the other hand was out displaying a glowing ring.

"Is that the best they can do these days?" he said triumphantly

"No."

Becky looked up to see a woman in what appeared to be a NYPD forensics uniform come down the stairs. She threw her hand forwards and the man crashed into the opposite pillar. Bolting forwards a metal sheen wrapped around her hands. She punched the man in the jaw and Becky heard it shatter like glass.

The woman twisted her arms like a conductor of a symphony and the tiles tore off of the pillar. They flew in front of the man and all but bricked him in. Slowly they compressed until it was a small block that the woman shoved into an inside pocket. Brushing her jacket off the woman turned to Becky and walked over to her. She extended her hand to help her up and Becky tentatively took it.

"Sorry about that," she said apologetically, "Looks like the Morganian asshole here was waiting for me, got mixed up."

"No….no…no problem," managed Becky.

The woman laughed, a long and loud sound.

"No problem she says," the woman said, "He would've killed you you know. Nice bit with the mace though. I'm guessing you're not a sorceress so I'm going to have to wipe your memory here, save you some psych bills-"

"Why would you do that?" demanded Becky, jerking away, "You're a Merlinian aren't you?"

The woman frowned at her. For a minute Becky wondered if she'd gotten the terminology correct, but from the confused look on the woman's face she could tell that she had.

"Maybe not then," she said, "You already know what I am?"

Becky nodded. The woman took a cigarette out, lit it with fire from her finger, and took a drag.

"Name," she said.

"Um, I'd rather not-"

The woman tsked and picked up the purse that Becky had still not quite picked up. She watched in horror as the woman rifled through it.

"Hey!"

Jerking out of Becky's reach the woman found what she was looking for. She tossed it back to her and said;

"Becky, was that so hard?" she asked, "Just wanted to know if you were an apprentice, we've got a list you know. It would certainly would explain the lack of a ring and they are getting older these days."

She cleared her throat.

"Don't worry, I didn't check out your last name," she said, "I understand privacy."

"Really?" asked Becky skeptically, looking down at her ravaged purse.

"Really," she said, "Name's Kate by the way, or at least currently. Good old Billy. Now, to business."

Folding her arms Kate looked her up and down.

"He mistook you for me….hmm…I think that's…" she said, "because you…have a magical aura. Don't know why I didn't see it earlier. Not a sorceress though."

She tilted her head. Becky started to feel uncomfortable under the woman's scrutiny.

"Not a sorceress," she repeated, "So it's borrowed, caught from someone magical you've been around for a long time."

Kate stuck out her lower lip.

"You look kinda familiar. Maybe a parent who's one then?" she suggested, "Merlinian, definitely a Merlinian aura you've got there."

"No," Becky said firmly.

Kate's expression turned dark.

"Boyfriend then," she said, "And I'm sure it's Craig. He'll tell any girl if he thinks he has a shot with her and then I need to go and take away their memories. I have stuff to do abroad and I can't be bothered to clean up his dirty laundry all the time-"

"I don't know a Craig," said Becky hurriedly.

Looking relived Kate said;

"Well that's good because I'd have to kill, or at least severely maim, him otherwise," she said, "So…not Craig…but the guy is your boyfriend?"

Becky blushed and the woman laughed loudly.

"Alright, I'm guessing an unregistered," she said, digging around in her pockets, "We'd prefer to know these things since we generally have to do the clean-up when unregistered sorcerers get themselves into trouble. Not to mention the headaches it causes, and the fact that there's safety in numbers."

She flipped out a business card and handed it to her. Becky looked at it blankly, just barely seeing faint lettering.

"Magical aura's not strong enough for you to see it," she said, "Stick around him another month or so and it will. But yeah, give that to him. He should at least think about his options, you know?"

With a sigh Kate took out a map and a draw string pouch. She tossed the map flat and reached into the pouch. She threw what looked like sand out of it, although it immediately turned red and flew back into her hand. Kate looked at it in surprise before putting it back in her bag. Smiling she shook her head and muttered to herself;

"You're just too stubborn to die then."

Turning on her heel Kate started up the stairs.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you Becky," she said, "Although I hope you take no offense when I say I hope that you don't run into me again."


	7. Chapter 7

"There had better be," Balthazar growled as he opened the door, "a damn good reason for this."

Dave nodded as he and Becky walked inside the Arcana Cabana. It had started raining out about an hour ago, and when Dave closed his umbrella flecks of water splattered onto the floor. Every ounce of him screamed to be back upstairs in bed near the warmth of his fiancé, not downstairs in the cold in bare feet. Balthazar eyed them irritably before shoving his hands in the pockets of his bathrobe and asking;

"Well?"

"Sorry," Dave said sheepishly, "We figured you'd be asleep but-"

"Most sane people are," he said, narrowing his eyes, "Unfortunately for me sanity seems to be lacking around here. The fact that I'd just managed to get to sleep five minutes ago doesn't exactly improve things. Now what is it?"

"Glad you asked," Dave said, licking his lips nervously and looking at Becky.

She took a deep breath and relayed what had happened a few hours ago. Finishing she handed him the business card she had been given and, without looking at it, he shoved it into a pocket of his robe. Balthazar rubbed his temples.

"A protection spell's in order for Becky here then," he said, "Can't believe I didn't think of that one earlier. It's simple. Come on."

Becky looked at Dave. He nodded and smiled reassuringly.

"It's no big deal," he said.

"Yeah, it won't turn you into anything."

"You know," said Becky, looking at Balthazar with a small level of distrust, "Kinda wish you took online classes for this."

"Me too."

"Dave," Balthazar said warningly, "I am in **no** mood for this."

Dave rolled his eyes but remained silent. Holding his hand and waved it over Becky's forehead. There was a faint blue glow before he withdrew it.

"Like I said, it's easy enough to do," Balthazar said, "but it'll have to be renewed every few weeks. Teach you how to do it later."

"But what about was happening in the subway-?" started Becky.

"They're trying to find Dave I'd suppose," Balthazar said, "The 'Equivalence point' he mentioned is a place where magic was performed. Dave's little stunt with the mugger a few weeks ago probably set that one off. It was low level spells but enough to at least show up on a few people's radar. Nice work 'thunder and lightning'."

Balthazar had to bite back a laugh when he saw how red Dave's face became. Becky looked faintly amused at this.

"Not cardio then huh?" she asked.

"More like a flaming trashcan to his head," Balthazar said, "And Dave, that lie actually sounded** worse** out loud than it did in your head."

"I'm not good under pressure."

"Battery Park says otherwise," corrected Balthazar, "As for the sand, that was a tracking device, something developed in Africa. It's very rare, very expensive, and can only be used a few times. I'm surprised she even had some in the first place. Generally it works even if the magic was performed a month ago. But luckily you've got an automatic damper on your aura. Most sorcerers have to make one. Shorts out the sand and things like it. One of your benefits to being Merlin's successor."

"And this Kate woman who for some reason is trying to find me then is who exactly?" asked Dave.

"Never heard of a Kate," answered Balthazar, "and I used to know all their names. But I've been out of the direct loop for about sixty years and out of it completely for ten. Probably just a New York Merlinian. I'll need to introduce you to them sometime…you might need them around you some days. But Becky's encounter was nothing to worry about. I'd assume they're just trying to figure out what the hell happened in Battery Park. It's not every day you get the Prime Merlinian in the city."

"Sorry, go back a bit please?" asked Dave incredulously.

"What, the sand or the damper-?"

"The bit about New York Merlinians."

"What, you don't think most sorcerers are complete loners like I was, do you?" Balthazar snorted, "Most prefer to work in groups. Major cities tend to have them because of the high population count, but there are fewer nowadays. It's mostly just defending the area and raising up the next generation, as well as keeping Morganians down. New York ones, now I don't think there's anyone quite like them."

He rubbed his chin.

"There's probably a Morganian group around here somewhere too, I've never known New York to be without one. It's been a major war zone since it was built."

"That's not hard to believe," Becky said, "I mean, you just have to go out on the streets after dark."

"Good point," Balthazar said, "but mostly it was a lot of different immigrants bringing different magical backgrounds. When I was last in contact with them they had just finished a major war, held together by one tough veteran. And then on the heels of that…"

Stopping he frowned. An odd memory flashed into his mind of a twenty-year old girl who had come into his shop one afternoon with a dog. One, who had looked somewhat like Becky, had been around the same age then. There had been a few differences, sharper features for one. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked at Becky quizzically.

"…but you'll learn more about that when you get into the 20's and 30's in the Incantus," he said, still looking at Becky oddly.

"What I don't get," Dave said slowly, his eyes flickering over Balthazar's odd look, "is why we didn't contact these guys when the trouble with Horvath started."

A ringing noise went off and Becky dug into her pocket for her phone. She clicked on it a few times, the beeps sounding loud as weights dropping. Frustrated Balthazar pinched the bridge of his nose. Sometimes it was hard to have a smart apprentice around. Otherwise he could've gone back to bed by now.

"If we had done that then Horvath would've gone to the local Morganian group," he said, "Everyone would've known your name, you most definitely would have had to drop out of school, and escalation would've been inevitable. We're talking whole blocks razed here. We're very lucky Horvath only decided to bring in that guy with the awful hair."

Sighing he let go of his nose. It was too late for these things.

"Class dismissed for the day. I hoped I'd have a break from teaching you for another week or so, but obviously not."

"Sorry for bothering you then," Dave said, rolling his eyes and starting to unfurl the umbrella again.

"One thing before you go though," he said, turning to and addressing Becky, "What was your last name again?"

"Barnes," she answered.

"Barnes," he repeated slowly, "and you got that from your father then, did you? I know some people are sometimes taking the wives' last names these days."

She gripped her hand into a fist and snapped out;

"Yeah, yeah I think I did. And why do you need to know exactly?"

Balthazar blinked, surprised by the reaction. He looked over at Dave who looked just as puzzled as he was.

"Oh…uh…no reason," he said.

"Then I think I'd like to be getting home then," she said, her voice still tense and angry sounding.

"I'll go with you," Dave said, still looking vaguely puzzled as they walked out the door.

.

.

.

Horvath gripped his swordstick angrily. He had installed the jewel in the hilt around a week ago, but that had been the end of his productivity since Morgana's defeat. Never before in his life had he been at such a loss as to what to do. It had been an odd, helpless little feeling. He didn't like it.

He had, after the Rising had failed, snatched the jewel from his cane and returned to Drake's apartment. He had left a few things there because, while he hated the tacky place, it had served as a practical base for the time. However, upon his arrival he had found the place crawling with Merlinian sorcerers.

Several of them were dressed as emergency workers, but he knew what they were. He should've known better. He had, of course, made inquiries about the Merlinian group that had dominated the area in the 1930's. Horvath had learned of the death of John Steed, and it appeared that they had fallen to disorganization after that. Apparently he had been wrong and they had just become much better at covering their tracks.

If he had been thinking clearly he would've known that performing two parasite spells and one theft of a conductor in the same place would send out considerable magical vibrations. Instead he had been basking in the idea of conducting the Rising and defeating Balthazar in a way that was more complete and terrible than just killing him.

So he had become sloppy when he had thought that triumph was within reach. It was a beginner's mistake and he cursed himself for it. At least he could still put a strong damper his own magical aura. That was why he had been rather more shocked and indignant when he had been accosted by someone with a considerable magical aura in the alley. Not to mention the ungodly stench of decay that they produced.

He was just about to blast them away when the figure drawled;

"Well, it's been a long time since I last saw you. How long…let me see…couple centuries?"

Horvath's brain split. One side, which belonged to who he had been, urged him to run. It cautioned him on what this man had taken in the past. It told him that he was not to be trusted, that danger lay down this path. It reminded him what he had done, what Horvath himself had helped him to do.

He shoved it away. That part of him belonged to a weaker man who had been defeated and spat upon and passed over. There was no more of that man in him, or so he chose to believe. So instead of listening to it he got down on one knee and bowed his head low. His next words were chosen respectfully.

"It has been close to thirteen hundred years milord."

"Thirteen eh?" he said, "That took long enough, now didn't it?"

He made a motion with a gloved hand for Horvath to rise. Horvath did so and the man crossed his arms.

"Prime Merlinian's been found," he said, "I know that much. I also know what happened in the park."

The man grinned oddly.

"I suppose they think themselves safe then?"

Horvath gave an undecided nod.

"Well, let's prove them wrong then."


	8. Chapter 8

Dave headed into the lab, buckling under the weight of the Incantus. Despite his best efforts he still hadn't found a way to turn it pocket sized. Bennet had laughed hysterically when he had first brought it in, and Dave figured that he must've at least doubled his muscle strength just from carrying it.

Using up his last reserves of strength he slammed the book down on the table. He'd read up until 240 A.D and, just to show that he could, done up until 250 A.D as well. Dave slumped down into the chair, panting. Whatever Balthazar had planned for that day had better not include a lot of physical activity or he'd drop dead.

"Balthazar? Are you back already? You just went out-"

Dave turned his head as Veronica walked into the room from one of the side chambers. Unlike the few minutes he'd seen her in the park she was no longer wearing the fairytale dress. Instead it had been replaced with a long-sleeved sweetheart-neckline brown t-shirt and black slacks. The neckline touched down high enough to be modest but low enough to show off her necklace. She looked just as surprised to see him as he was to see her.

"Oh, you're here early," she said, "He said you'd be late."

"Bet he was looking forward to having me do a penalty for it too," Dave said, not exactly sure what the etiquette was on talking to a woman who'd been trapped in a doll for a few centuries, "Total sadist."

Veronica smiled and nodded.

"He gets that from Merlin I believe," she said, "Although…having to cart around the Incantus **is** an original punishment."

"Yeah, I bet," he said, rolling his eyes, "One hundred percent original."

She frowned for a minute, as if not quite understanding what he was saying. Then she asked, rather tentatively;

"You mean he is very original, yes?"

"Yeah," Dave said.

He quickly made a mental note not to pepper his conversation with modern phrases. 'What's up?' was probably out of the question for instance. Still, she wasn't saying 'thee' or 'thou' so it might not be too bad. She was chewing her lip and looking at him thoughtfully. Dave wondered if this was a good thing.

"I'd like to thank you," she said, at last, "for what you did at the park."

"No need to thank me," he said.

She gave him a hard look.

"You didn't put him in the Grimhold," she said, "I was…very weak then. If you had chosen to follow his orders, then I wouldn't have been strong enough to stop you."

"Well it didn't feel right to," he said, "But-"

"And then you gave him back to me," Veronica said bluntly, "I spoke the truth on that night. He was dead. For however short a time he was gone. And then you…well…I'm not quite sure what you did, but you did it. So thank you."

Feeling like she wasn't going to take no for an answer Dave said awkwardly;

"You're welcome."

She nodded again. Then she took in his sweaty appearance.

"You're exhausted," she said.

He nodded and Veronica looked at him with a small degree of pity.

"I'll try to go easy on you today," she said.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, suddenly alert.

The door to the lab slammed shut and Balthazar stomped down the stairs. He was carrying something that looked like a roll of carpet, but it looked heavy and clanked loudly with each step. Dave felt a chill go down his spine just watching him. Veronica noticed and winked at him before saying;

"You'll see."

"So, have a nice little vacation?" Balthazar said, heaving the roll onto a table.

There was a loud metallic noise. Dave jumped and noticed that Veronica winced.

"Gently," she murmured.

"It was good," he said, looking at the bundle suspiciously.

"See you've repaired the Tesla coils," Balthazar observed.

"Had to. It's part of a project, remember?" he said.

"I've only been told about eight million times," answered Balthazar, "How's Becky?"

"Much better."

"Good. So that finishes up the small talk portion of today's lesson," Balthazar said, "Now comes the **exciting** part."

Sighing Dave pushed himself up from the chair and started heading towards the Merlin's Circle. Balthazar held up a hand though. After fumbling around in his pocket he took out the dragon ring and tossed it to Dave. He managed to catch it clumsily before looking up at Balthazar questioningly.

"Found it on the way out of the park," he said, "Just because you don't need it doesn't mean you shouldn't have it. Now let's review."

Dave then proceeded to go through his limited repertoire of spells. He managed the vacuum spell well and Veronica gave a brief clap. Blocking Balthazar's plasma bolts was more difficult though, his shield had gotten stronger but his focus was still as wavering. Levitating all of the objects he was required to was hard as well.

"Did you practice at all?" asked Balthazar sarcastically.

"Of course," snapped Dave.

"Could've fooled me."

"That's so easy to do though," Veronica remarked.

Balthazar rubbed his temples as Dave held in a laugh. In time he managed to run through them all, Balthazar's comments curtailed somewhat. Balthazar nodded and gestured to a chair.

"Now sit down."

Confused but grateful for the break Dave took a seat. Balthazar then walked over to the bundle of cloth and unrolled it on the table. Dave's eyes widened when he looked at the swords that were revealed.

"No," he said, "Nonononononono-"

"Yes," Balthazar answered back sharply, "Yesyesyesyesyes. I told you Merlinians didn't just rely on their magic."

"I use physics too," defended Dave feebly.

"Remember what I said about the pig," Balthazar replied, "Only replace Horvath's name with…oh…just about anyone."

"Nobody uses swords anymore!" he protested.

Balthazar picked one up and nonchalantly tossed it from one hand to another.

"On the contrary, most sorcerers do," he said, "The metal acts as an excellent conductor. Some people even prefer to use swords as conductors instead of rings."

He paused for a minute and looked into space. Shaking his head he laid the sword back on the table.

"But you don't have to worry about me being the sadistic swordsmanship Master as well," he said, "Veronica's going to teach you."

For a minute Dave thought he was joking. When she pulled on a pair of leather gloves and picked up a sword though Dave started;

"But uh, but but-"

"You think I can't teach you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and sliding one glove on.

"I'm sure you can," Dave said hastily, "It's just um…it um…"

"Ah," Veronica said, "you think that the time I spent in the Grimhold gives me an unfair disadvantage."

Dave didn't say anything. The fact of the matter was that he had thought that. He hadn't wanted to say anything about it though, unsure about how she felt about her imprisonment or if she'd been injured from it. It appeared that she had adopted a survivor's attitude towards the whole situation. He was still glad that he hadn't been the first one to mention it.

Not to mention the fact that if he somehow managed hurt her, even a little bit, even by accident, he had a feeling that Balthazar would rain hell down on him. While he had been pretty creative in the past Dave felt that Balthazar would get fresh bursts of inspiration if that happened. Taking his silence as the confirmation that it was Veronica said;

"I understand. Very chivalrous of you," she said, in a tone that showed that it was a compliment, "But it's been three weeks. I could probably take anything the very next day. Understand?"

Dave nodded.

"Still," she said thoughtfully, "I had thought that it would be appropriate to open with a little demonstration."

Veronica turned and smiled sweetly at Balthazar.

"Love," she said.

Balthazar glared at him in a way that showed he clearly blamed Dave for the recent turn of events. Taking off his coat he picked up the other sword. The two of them walked into the middle of the circle. Balthazar's ring glowed and so did Veronica's. Turning to Dave he said shortly;

"First thing you have to do is blunt the sword. See the metal particles, and soften them."

As it often was Balthazar's explanation made absolutely no sense. By this time though, Dave had learned that it was best not to ask questions and to just try and visualize the things he talked about.

"Magic or no magic?" asked Balthazar.

"No magic," she said, "This place has a roof, and I don't want to intimidate him too much on the first day."

Sighing Balthazar tapped the ground with his blade once before swinging it at her. She blocked quickly and dived sideways, her hair flying out behind her. Tilting his hand he managed to catch her next attack, and the two locked blades. It didn't last very long as she soon slipped her sword out from under his and moved backwards.

Balthazar followed her and she blocked again. This time she seemed to be forcing his blade up, but Dave noticed that hers was at an angle. Veronica was clearly somewhat weaker than Balthazar, and her sword was being forced down. Just when it seemed that he'd be able to knock hers out of her hand though she increased the angle and applied pressure.

Then she pushed forwards. Balthazar's sword flew out of his hand and landed near the stairs. He went for it just as she jumped in front of him. He changed direction and moved in front of her. This proved to be a bad idea as she slid her sword to the point where it was just touching his throat from behind. He stopped and groaned. It had all happened in the space of about three minutes.

"Yield," she said.

"I was always more of an archer," Balthazar sighed, "Yield."

She removed her sword and turned to Dave, who had a feeling that his mouth was open. He shut it quickly. Putting her sword back down on the table Veronica walked over to him.

"You're going to be told that size and strength matter a good deal in this," she said, "And they do. If you don't mind me being frank, you're quite small."

"He knows it," called Balthazar.

"But that's good," she said, "You can run rings around people whose reach is too long. You can be faster. But we're going to need to start fairly soon. Since it's your first day back we'll work mostly on footwork. Now come on."

Awkwardly Dave stood up. It looked as though he was in for a long afternoon.


	9. Chapter 9

Becky sighed and brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. She hadn't gotten enough sleep last night. Normally this wouldn't be a problem on a Saturday, but it had gotten to the point that she had given up even trying to get some rest. It couldn't go on like this much longer, it really couldn't.

Even though it had refused to give her the rest it deserved her body was complaining bitterly. The _Starbuck's _coffee list was starting to blur in front of her eyes. Since her first day at college she had been trying to order everything on the list on a different day. Usually it was dictated by mood. So whatever she was ordering that morning would definitely be whatever they were calling insanely big.

The barista was starting to look at her oddly. Becky was getting the feeling that she was reading the same line over and over again and that the barista knew it. Perhaps she wouldn't be quite so adventurous that day and just go with a cappuccino or something. Maybe there would be a bagel too to try and balance it all out.

A jingling sound from the door signaled the advance of another customer. Footsteps came up behind her and stopped close. Apparently someone else was trying to figure out what to get at an hour which Becky felt would be better spent sleeping. Without really knowing what she was doing her eyes slid over to her neighbor.

The woman was wearing baggy clothes with an oversized jacket thrown over it all. Her hair was down, and she most definitely hadn't bothered to put on any make-up that morning. The only thing she had put on was an-old fashioned necklace. Yet, despite it all, she still managed to look wonderfully beautiful.

It was early in the morning, so she could very well be wrong. However, she did pluck up the nerve to tentatively ask;

"Veronica?"

She turned and looked at her with surprise for a moment. Then she smiled a little and said;

"You must be Becky then. Dave speaks of you often."

Becky's eyebrows furrowed and Veronica added helpfully;

"Your picture was in the Incantus."

"The magic book, yeah," answered Becky vaguely, "So was yours, but I didn't expect to meet you in a coffee shop."

"I was going to surprise Balthazar this morning," Veronica said, "As much as he would hate to admit it he does enjoy sleeping in. Sometimes until ten."

"And you put up with that?' asked Becky before she could stop herself.

"On other nights he gets up at two in the morning, can't get back to sleep," Veronica shrugged, "I figure until his sleep pattern normalizes I should be gentle with him."

She looked up at the menu with the smallest hint of trepidation.

"Normally he drinks his black," she said, "but personally I find that disgusting. I was under the impression there were different types…but not quite so many."

"Well," started Becky before launching into a full-fledged explanation about the items on the menu.

Veronica laughed slightly when she was done.

"Caff-een," she said, "Most likely the best invention made when I was away."

"I don't see how I could get through college without it," Becky admitted, "A godsend really."

Nudging her with her elbow Veronica said;

"I believe the woman there is wishing we'd order something."

Turning her head Becky could see that indeed the woman was tapping her fingers impatiently on the counter. Nodding Becky ordered a cappuccino and a bagel, paid, then moved to a table. Veronica followed suit and sat across from her with a muffin, one cup in front of her, and another tucked to the side.

"I'm still only using cash," explained Veronica, "Credit cards seem a little far-fetched to actually work."

"Same here, only switch credit cards for flying steel eagles."

"Balthazar has a flair for the dramatic, something your young man has picked up on."

Becky fought the urge to blush. No one had ever referred to Dave as her 'young man' before, and it felt strange.

"You know something?" she said.

"What?"

"It's funny," Becky said, "I've been thrown into your world and you've been thrown into mine."

She paused for a minute to smear cream cheese on her bagel.

"Big jump from dating the wide-eyed physics nerd to the world's magical savior," she elaborated.

Veronica rested her chin on her elbow and cocked her head.

"I probably should have helped you with that," she apologized, "Dave probably doesn't understand enough to explain and Balthazar…he probably wouldn't have bothered."

"No, it's kinda my fault. We really should've met earlier," Becky said, "It's just that…things have been happening and I haven't had much time to drop by the lab."

"I am aware," said Veronica, "And, forgive me if this is presumptuous; Dave seems to be rather worried about you."

"Oh, he's a worrier," Becky said, trying to brush it off, "It's nothing really."

The older woman raised her eyebrows and Becky sought for a way to change the subject. Talking about that was **not** the way she wanted to start a friendship.

"I hear you've been teaching Dave how to swordfight," she said.

"A necessary skill for a young sorcerer to learn," Veronica answered, "Although, he doesn't seem to be taking to it too well."

"He doesn't really seem the physical-activity type," said Becky.

"Oh, he isn't," agreed Veronica, "Then again neither was I when I first started out. It's all a question of how much effort you put in. He's reached a remarkable level with his magic though, unheard of considering as he's only just started his training."

Becky nodded proudly.

"He's quite head-over-heels for you," Veronica added with a small grin, "And I have the feeling that it's mutual."

"It's a very long story," Becky said.

"I don't believe I'm going anywhere."

Sipping her coffee Becky cleared her throat.

"Desk mates, or one of four in the fourth grade."

She waited to see if Veronica had understood what she had said. When she didn't ask any questions Becky went on to explain how hopeless she'd been with fractions and how eager Dave had been to help her. From her memories he had been sweet and interesting, if not a little too mad about science. Of course, it had never been more than a childish crush and a shy ambiguous valentine with a lollipop taped to it.

"Then he transferred because everyone thought he was nuts," she finished, "And I didn't see him again until a few weeks ago."

Slowly Veronica's hand went to her necklace. She shrugged but looked a little as though she had been suddenly reminded of something.

"Fate then," she said.

Her fingers continued to twist over the necklace.

"It really is beautiful," Becky commented.

Veronica's smile widened.

"Yes," she answered, "But I'm not sure if you completely understand it."

Becky shook her head.

"Your turn for a story then," she said, starting to drink some coffee.

"When I was growing up, courtship rituals were different," she started, pulling a piece of the muffin off with great difficulty with a fork, "Mostly they included poetry and serenading, not really flowers and chocolate. So when Balthazar started courting me-"

Nearly choking on her coffee Becky tried to take air in. Veronica looked at her in alarm until Becky managed to get it all down.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I just have a hard time imagining Balthazar singing."

"So do I," admitted Veronica, "which is probably why he didn't."

"Oh."

"The poetry wasn't exactly wonderful though."

"Maybe I should stop drinking coffee," said Becky drily, "I don't want to choke again."

"He had help with it," Veronica said, "Tried to disguise it was him. Didn't do a very good job. But back to the point. There weren't rings to propose with back then. A very popular method was, however, a certain type of necklace."

Becky's eyes widened.

"So the two of you are-"

"Betrothed as soon as I accepted," Veronica said, "Yes, yes we are."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you," smiled Veronica, "If it were up to me then we would've dashed off to the nearest priest the moment I got out of the Grimhold, but he believes in doing things properly."

"Traditionalist then."

"I think we both are in some ways," Veronica answered, "Elopements were quite common back then. I always assumed it would be a fairly quiet affair, but apparently Balthazar had some preconceived ideas. Again, quiet, but somewhat formal."

"You'll be needing a dress then," said Becky, "Well, when you set the date."

"I'm not exactly fashion conscious," Veronica said, "Too many years away."

"Balthazar didn't help you?"

Veronica gave her a look which made her realize the stupidity of her words.

"I didn't want to embarrass him," she said, "So I tried to do it on my own. To be honest I just grabbed things that looked like they fit."

Becky bit back a comment.

"I suppose I should, I mean…I wish I could look a little more…" her voice trailed off, "But then again, it's not like he'd ever notice anything I wear. When I first started looking for his attention I came down in this beautifully embroidered gown."

She shook her head before adding ruefully;

"He just shrugged at me and said I looked _nice_."

"You know," added Becky thoughtfully, "Dave does the same thing. Smiles nervously or shrugs or something…just once I wish I'd be able to knock him floored, get away from that awkward thing he does."

Veronica nodded. Looking down at her watch she sighed.

"I still have a few hours to go. Perhaps I should have ordered coffee later."

"You know," Becky said thoughtfully, "It's around six. A couple things are opening up."

She eyed Veronica's baggy clothes for a minute before making up her mind.

"Come on."

.

.

.

When Balthazar did wake up that morning it was closer to eleven. Veronica was nowhere in sight, but he really couldn't blame her for that. She had always been apt to seize the day while he generally tended to crash and burn. Rubbing the back of his neck he got dressed and walked across the hall to the den.

Veronica stood there, her back turned to him as she set a few bags down on the counter beside her. He stared at her, dumbstruck. Her baggy clothes had been replaced with a form fitting empire-waist cream dress. The skirt stopped just short of her knees and she was moving with a grace that belied the fact that she was wearing her first pair of high heels.

He blinked again. The dress had short, puffy sleeves which emphasized the balanced shape of her arms. Balthazar briefly reflected on the fact that he had never before in his life seen this much of Veronica's arms or legs. Or, and he swallowed rather hard, her back which was displayed by the fact that she had swept her hair over her shoulder.

Noticing his presence Veronica turned around and smiled shyly. Despite all of the new clothes she still wore the necklace.

"What do you think?" she asked.

He stared for another few seconds before opening his mouth uselessly. Grinning she took a step forward. Veronica kissed him lightly on the lips and again on his now red cheeks. Then she gestured towards the kitchen.

"Come on, before your coffee freezes."


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: **__Kudos to anyone who can figure out what movie Dave and Becky were going to see. I'll give you a hint; the actor who played Dave was in it. And for all of my oh-so-patient readers, here's what's up with Becky. _

Dave knocked on the door to Becky's apartment. They had planned to see a movie that day, and while he was ten minutes early, he was looking forward to it. Not the movie, it was some sort of romantic comedy about a guy getting a girl that was infinitely more attractive than him. He never liked those types since they had always seemed unrealistic to him. Now they just hit a little too close to home in his mind.

So no, it had nothing to do with the movie. Between being battered with a sword and electrocuted he hadn't had a lot of time to spend with her. Hence the fact that he was ten minutes early. It was also Becky's birthday and he had determined to get things right. To start with there was the movie, which he was paying for. Then, and this had taken much bribing of her roommate and fellow pre-law major Jill, he had found out her favorite song. That as something he had sweated over and worn his fingers down with typing for.

After a few seconds the door opened. He had expected Becky or Jill. Instead he saw a woman who appeared to be in her late twenties. It was hard to tell her age though. There was something off about her hair and face that made him wonder just how old she was. Her eyes took him in shrewdly.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Uhm, is Becky in?" he asked.

"Oh, are you her tutor?" she asked patronizingly with an artificial smile.

He blinked.

"Um, wha-no," he said, feeling like he'd just been smacked in the face, "I'm her boyfriend."

A quick look of disgust came across the woman's face.

"Really?" she asked skeptically.

"Yeah," he said firmly.

"What major?"

Again a little taken aback he managed;

"Physics."

"Oh. Hmmm. You know, I didn't think that she needed **that **much help with her school work," she said, "I didn't think you needed to date someone to get it either. Don't they have T.A's for that?"

Dave swallowed his next remark, remembering that any swear words coming from his mouth sounded ridiculous.

"But no," she added as an afterthought, "she's not in."

"I'll come back later then," Dave said instead, taking a few steps back in order to leave.

"How cute. But wouldn't bother if I were you," she said.

Quietly he counted up a few stress-relieving techniques he'd been taught.

"I uh, don't think we've met," he said.

"There's a good reason for that," she said, her patronizing tone and smile returning, "You see…"

.

.

.

Becky opened the door to her apartment. She was running late that morning, her professor just wouldn't shut up. Maybe she should get him a watch at the end of the fall term, which was rapidly approaching. Flinging open the door she took a deep breath in. Her apology was on her lips when she noticed that there was a disturbing lack of Dave in the main room of the apartment.

Instead she saw Jill putting her coat on and getting ready to go out the door. Becky frowned and looked around.

"Hey, Jill?' she asked, "Did Dave come by?"

Jill shrugged.

"Dunno," she said, "I can't remember. You know, the doorbell might've rung earlier…but that might've been next door…"

Becky gritted her teeth in annoyance. She liked Jill, but her inattention to both the door and phone made her want to scream.

"But you should've told me that you had family coming over," she continued, "I would've cleaned up a little. Or made cookies, well, more cookies since I made some this morning. But, you know. Something."

"Wait, what?" asked Becky, feeling an awful rising panic in the pit of her stomach, "Family, what do you mean?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about," Jill grinned.

The door slammed ominously behind her.

"Yes Rebecca, don't pretend like you don't know what she's talking about."

Slowly Becky turned around.

"Hi mom," she managed, swallowing hard.

"Happy birthday Rebecca dearest," her mother said with a plastic smile, sitting down on the couch, "You weren't picking up your phone or answering my texts, so I thought a little visit was in order."

"It's certainly a surprise," Becky said, swallowing hard, "I see you've had some more surgery."

Her mother smiled indulgently at her.

"You're just guessing," she said, "A little lift around the eyes isn't surgery, it's a necessity."

Becky swallowed again. She tried to remember a time that her mother's face hadn't been so harshly perfect. It was hard, and she couldn't even remember her mother's natural hair color. For one thing Becky knew that it hadn't been blonde, perhaps more of a reddish brown. Then again, maybe not even that had been natural.

"There are three things that are worrying me though, besides you not responding which probably would've warranted this trip just a trifle unnecessary," she said, "To start with, why are your grades so low?"

"Well, if you'd read the e-mails I sent you then you might know. As I told you, I don't like being a pre-law major," answered Becky, "In fact I might go so far as to say I hate it. Maybe if you'd let me do something with, I don't know, say, music, then perhaps my grade point average would be higher."

"How drool," her mother said, rolling her eyes, "You know perfectly well that there's no future in something like that. I don't even want to **see **what the starting salary would look like. Two digits perhaps?"

She shuddered.

"Besides, don't you have that radio station to indulge your little hobby?" she asked, "The one that seven people listen to?"

"You can round it up to eight nowadays," Becky said, narrowing her eyes.

"Quaint," her mother laughed, "And another thing, why do you still insist on you going by Barnes? And Becky, Becky's tacky."

"Like I told you last month, I was born with it," Becky said, "And I think Becky sounds less stuffy than Rebecca."

"Your loyalty really is very touching, but your Dad's been dead for fourteen years now, and that's a very long time since he called you Becky," she said, "Besides, Rebecca Anne Black sounds soooooo much better than Rebecca Anne Barnes."

"My initials stay the same no matter what," pointed out Becky.

"They won't in a few months if you follow my lead," Ms. Black said cheerfully, "I'm getting married."

"Again?" Becky asked drily, "This makes it what, the third time since Dad?"

Frowning Ms. Black gestured to the armchair.

"Sit down," she said, "When you use that tone and stand like that then it gets so confrontational."

Knowing that that would only prolong a birthday that was rapidly being ruined Becky turned to the only thing that offered a little sunshine; Dave. Wherever he was, perhaps lessons with Balthazar had run late, she would go off and find him. They could go see that movie and then she could maybe stay over at his place until her mother got the message and went back to Florida.

"You know what?" said Becky, "As much as I would love to stay and listen to you rant about how I'm not enjoying the life you'd picked out for me, I'd already made plans to do some things with my boyfriend and I'm already running late-"

"If you're talking about that scrawny little physics major who was here earlier, then we've come around to point three," Ms. Black interrupted, "You have the most exquisite timing."

Her blood ran cold.

"Oh God," she moaned, "What did you say to Dave?"

"Just that he should probably reschedule whatever he had planned with you, since as your mother I'm more important, and that he should stop playing _Warcraft _long enough to go out and get some sun," shrugged Ms. Black, "A physics major? Really?"

Becky shut her eyes. She wanted this nightmare to be over so bad.

"Personally I'd prefer a football player or something with a bit more pizzazz to it, or perhaps someone with a Trust Fund," her mother said, "If you had to pick a geeky one, and maybe you're just doing it for the novelty, who knows, then you could have at least gone for one who might make something of himself-"

"Okay, that's it," snapped Becky, "Dave is better than eight football players who can't do long division combined, he does **not **play _Warcraft _and it wouldn't matter if he did, he's the most considerate guy I've ever met, and I happen to be extremely happy with him."

Her mother blinked, and then scowled.

"She's been putting more silly ideas in your head, hasn't she?" she said, "Very well for her to say things like you can fall in love whenever you want, she was a fabulously wealthy socialite who married another fabulously wealthy socialite in the same circle. It's downright hypocritical for her to talk like that."

"Don't you bring her into this," growled Becky, clenching her fists, "Just because she actually bothered to raise me-"

"Not this again. Rebecca, dearest, I was busy. Besides, who cares if I missed a few school plays-"

"Every school play, every Christmas, every Thanksgiving, and every single Birthday for twelve years," she interrupted, "Then when I get comfortable in my life you have to butt in again."

"Well it's not like she could actually see them now is it?" her mother asked.

Becky's mouth dropped open.

"You did **not** just say that."

"I'm still your legal guardian and you couldn't seriously believe I'd let her pay for your college," Ms. Black said, rolling her eyes and ignoring Becky, "People would talk. And I leave you alone for a few months and you've fallen back into your old ways."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, don't talk like you don't know. I asked that Jill or something who he was. And then I googled David Stutler on my phone. He's a byword for a nervous breakdown for goodness sake. If you wanted to date someone you knew I wouldn't like couldn't you have at least picked a **rich** nutcase?"

Breathing in deeply Becky turned around and headed for the door.

"And just where do you think you're going?"

"Where I should've gone ten minutes ago," she snapped, "I'm off to save what's left of my relationship, thank you very much."


	11. Chapter 11

The door to the lab opened roughly and then slammed shut. Balthazar looked up in surprise from where he had been cleaning the swords on one of the tables. Personally he had never cared if his was held together only by rust. However, these had come with him from Merlin's Keep. If there was one rather relaxing activity in the afternoon that could be claimed as work, then this was it.

Looking up he saw Dave. He was slouched over his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. The boy stopped when he saw Balthazar and sighed in frustration.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped.

Balthazar raised his eyebrows.

"I'm writing the next American classic Dave. Try and keep the noise down. What does it look like?" he asked, "And you said that you wouldn't need the place until after two. It's only a little past twelve, so I could really ask you the same question."

Shaking his head Dave walked down the stairs and slumped down into one of the chairs.

"I didn't want to go back to the apartment," he said, "Bennet's got a girl over, and I see no reason why I should ruin his day too."

Almost immediately Balthazar tensed.

_Do not ask what's wrong, do not ask what's wrong, _he chanted in his head, _He probably got in a fight with Becky, probably the last thing he wants to do is talk about it, do not ask him what's wrong-_

"What's wrong?" he heard himself ask.

_ -and then you just went ahead and asked him what was wrong anyways, didn't you? You complete idiot. _

Dave studied the wood grain on the work table for a minute. Finally he asked;

"Balthazar…if one of Veronica's parents, I don't know, say her mother or something, didn't like you, what would you have done?"

Surprised by the question he looked over at Dave sharply.

"Hypothetically anyway," added Dave.

"You must think I'm an idiot," Balthazar said, rolling his eyes and trying to forget how he had berated himself for that very thing a few seconds earlier, "So you met Becky's mother today did you?"

Nodding weakly Dave said;

"She uh, she didn't like me at all."

"Now you're exaggerating-"

"No, I'm not."

"Well how do you know?"

"She said so," Dave said miserably.

"Huh," Balthazar said, wincing, "And what did Becky say?"

"She wasn't there."

Dave tapped the table weakly. Searching for words Balthazar looked up at the ceiling.

"Didn't your father ever cover this situation with you?" he asked, "Or at least make you watch a comedic movie about it?"

Looking embarrassed Dave said;

"I was never a big Ben Stiller fan," he said, "And, um…my Mom and Dad…they weren't exactly…well to be honest they just weren't married…and he didn't like the idea of being a father so…I've…never actually met him…"

Feeling highly uncomfortable now Balthazar shifted from one foot to the other. He wished he hadn't stayed late that day. His instinct was to run away as fast as possible. It was far too late to extricate himself from the situation though. Of course, should he leave, or disturbingly enough, did he even want to?

He had once plainly said that he was Dave's Master, not his mentor. Without noticing it he had crossed that line awhile ago though, probably when he had first left the lab in order to allow him to be with Becky. That was not the act of a Master. Putting the sword he was working on back onto the table he started thinking.

Balthazar looked back at the highly dejected look on Dave's face. It was hard not to feel sorry for him at that moment. This was not turning out to be this young man's day, not at all. Something flickered in the back of his mind, something that might perhaps help or at least be relevant to the situation.

Almost immediately he dismissed it. He wasn't about to share something like that. He hadn't told anyone about that. However, it persisted. After all, he told himself, he had already told Dave so much about what had happened back then that this wouldn't make much of a difference. Balthazar chose his words carefully.

"Dave, by the time I met Veronica her entire family had been murdered," he said, "I never met her parents."

Sighing Dave turned around in his chair and made a move as if to get up.

"Sorry for bothering you then-"

"No," said Balthazar, raising a hand, "I'm not finished yet. The thing is, when Veronica was brought to Merlin's Keep he effectively took her in as his ward. But…perhaps ward isn't the right word. Ward implies distant and calculating. I guess the modern day equivalent of what he was, or decided to just about be, today would be something more like adopted father."

Dave's eyes widened. He sat back down almost immediately.

"So when the two of you started…you know…did you have to ask his per-?"

"Yes," Balthazar said bluntly, "And that was embarrassing as hell. At least she was there with me so it didn't get too awkward…but I'm not sure he was fully reconciled with the idea. Veronica was somewhat of a Medieval old maid back then, not by much, still very eligible. When I was younger I'd often wondered if he planned to let her get married at all…"

His voice trailed off. The next words were difficult to remember since he had pushed them out of his mind so very long ago, and were even harder to say.

"But when I was around twenty-four I learned, quite by accident," he forced out, "that Merlin had always intended for her to marry. He just had always the hope that she would marry Horvath."

There was a tense silence. Balthazar struggled to finish.

"That was a difficult thing for me to learn, since I'd already admitted to myself that I'd fallen pretty hard for her," he said, "I hadn't yet picked up on Horvath's feelings, no one had, which would have made it even harder. But it was something I struggled with for awhile."

"I…I don't…you were all his apprentices though," Dave tried.

Balthazar grinned wryly.

"You have to understand that Merlin never had any children," he said, "I think he wanted to but…he never even dreamed of remarrying after his wife died-"

"He had a wife?" Dave interjected.

"Unimportant right now, it's in the Incantus," Balthazar said, a little annoyed at being interrupted at something he was already having difficulty admittig, "He took in four foster children altogether, the three of us and Arthur. Veronica was the only one with official status. But Horvath…he was his first apprentice. He was incredibly talented, and charming when he wanted to be. Merlin had always tried never to show favoritism…but…well, there was an…incident…and the fact that he still allowed Horvath to stay at all after that..."

Dave looked at him silently for awhile.

"Did Veronica know?" he asked finally.

Scratching his head uncomfortably Balthazar said;

"I never asked, never wanted to talk about the possibility of the two of them together. You'll understand why. Merlin's opinion was important to her, but I don't think it was as important to someone with as strong a will as hers to make her change her mind on the matter."

Clearing his throat Balthazar said;

"But it raised some questions for me at a time when I was already worried about the average things concerning love. Was it just because Horvath was Merlin's first apprentice? Perhaps Merlin valued the position he would give her more. Did he think them more compatible? Did he think Horvath was a better sorcerer, better for her than some weakling like me? Those kinds of things."

"But I got over that," he finished, "even if it took a clout 'round the ear from my older brother to do so."

The look Dave gave him was questioning but he didn't say anything. Perhaps he sensed that this was something best left for another time. Whatever it was Balthazar was glad of it. He wasn't willing to discuss the friend who had betrayed him and his brutally murdered brother in the same day. Clearing his throat once more he added;

"I don't know if this helps at all, but I'm glad that I did. Get over it I mean."

Dave looked up thoughtfully.

"Thanks," he said, "That couldn't have been…you know…easy."

Balthazar snorted.

"It wasn't," he said gruffly, "So you'd better appreciate it and put it to good use."

Without another word Balthazar went up the stairs.

"And don't be late for tomorrow's practice!" he added.

Before he went out of the lab he stole a glance at Dave's expression out of the corner of his eye. It was confused and lost while looking singularly unsurprised. However, just before the door closed he thought he caught a hint of a grin on Dave's face. Perhaps it had been helpful after all.

Balthazar got into his car and drove home. The talk had brought a few memories up, ones that he had hoped would remain buried. Still, it did give one food for thought. Since the drive home was quite long there was plenty of time. When he went up the stairs to the living area of the Arcana Cabana he called out;

"Veronica?"

"I'm in the kitchen," she called back, "I've almost figured out this insane excuse for cookware."

Walking into the kitchen Balthazar took in the scene. Four burnt bags of popcorn lay smoking slightly in the trash. Veronica was intently watching a fifth popping up in the microwave. After a few seconds she slammed the 'end' button ferociously. She took it out, opened it, and examined its contents. She turned to Balthazar with a triumphant smile as she put it down.

"I've got it," she said.

In response Balthazar strode over and pulled her into a passionate kiss. His hands went to her hair, noticing that she was using a new shampoo. Either way it still smelt faintly of lavender. After a minute or so he pulled away, his arms around her shoulders. Veronica cocked her head and smiled.

"Now what was that for?" she asked.

"Do I need an excuse?"

"Not really," she admitted, "But…I have the feeling you've got one anyway."

He smiled.

"I'm just thinking about how lucky I am."


	12. Chapter 12

Breathless Becky knocked on the door to the lab. She had already been to Dave's apartment, and then had missed her train on the way to the lab. So it was much later than she had hoped it would be, and there was still no sign of him. After this she planned on looking at the library, and then possibly her physics professor's room. If he wasn't there then she was trying the Arcana Cabana, although Veronica had told her that Balthazar fully intended to keep his teaching schedule separate from his home one.

She knocked again, swallowing a little. It was late now, around five. She felt completely ridiculous. How could she have known that ignoring her mother would make her show up though? Snorting to herself she shook her head. **Of course** she should've known. It was just the kind of thing she should've expected from someone like her. Breathing in deeply Becky leaned against the door.

To her surprise the door creaked open a little. She opened it a little more and peered down through the door and inside. Dave was standing inside the cage, tapping away on the computer inside. The plasma wasn't going, but the cords were hooked up. His headphones were in and Becky straightened. She hoped that she didn't look like she had been hurrying around as much as she had been, hoped that she didn't look like a complete mess.

Coming down the stairs she stopped just outside the cage. With all of the commotion Becky hadn't really thought of what to say. After all; she didn't know how much he had taken what her mother had said to heart. However, she really couldn't afford to put it off. His back was turned to her and she rapped on the metal. When he didn't turn around she reached over and tapped him gently on the shoulder.

Dave screamed rather shrilly and jumped up into the air. Seeing it was her he quickly pulled his headphones out and tried very hard to look as though he hadn't just done that. Despite the situation Becky found herself repressing a chuckle as she got into the cage next to him. Then she remembered her purpose and quickly looked for the right words. However, it was Dave who spoke first.

"Sorry we missed the movie," he said apologetically, "But uh, I don't know, it's not too late for dinner or something right?"

He smiled sheepishly at her. In return she gaped at him.

"Dave," she said slowly, "I know you ran into my mother at the apartment."

His smile faltered for just a minute before returning to its full strength. Cheerfully he replied;

"Yeah…she's….she's not someone you meet every day, I can tell you that much."

Becky rolled her eyes.

"She's an ogre Dave, you don't have to skirt around the issue."

He blinked at her and she shook her head.

"She was pretty young when she married my Dad," she continued wildly, feeling that she needed to explain, "and when he died I was six. Finding herself a young widow I guess she didn't want a child holding her back. So she left me with my grandmother and I only saw her occasionally for twelve years. Then she came back and demanded I switch majors to something more 'practical'."

"Becky," he said gently, "you don't have to-"

"But she started texting me and trying to call me about why I wouldn't change my name or because I wasn't doing good enough in school. And I just wanted her to go away and leave me alone," said Becky, unable to stop, "I should've told you but I just wanted to forget about her for the most part. But if I'd known she'd come I would've never done that. She ruins things Dave and I can't believe she said all that…that shit to you and I…"

"You shouldn't be apologizing or making excuses for her," Dave said firmly, "Okay?'

"I'm just trying…trying to-"

"You don't have to," he said, "You don't have to."

He smiled again.

"But I just want you to know that, despite appearances and what she might think, I really don't play _Warcraft_."

Suppressing tears she hugged him tightly. Becky rested her head on his chest, tucked under his chin comfortably. Dave wrapped his arms around her for a few minutes, muttering things that she didn't quite understand but that sounded comforting. After some time he leaned down and whispered in her ear;

"Want your birthday gift?"

She nodded slightly and he closed the door to the cage. With a few keystrokes the lights dimmed and she caught her breath, taking in the familiar sight of the lab gearing up. The first stream of plasma hit the ground and held there continuously. Another joined it and another and another. This time she couldn't help crying.

"_Somewhere Over the Rainbow_?" she asked.

"Took some figuring out to do," he grinned, "But yeah, found it out from Jill. For a girl who can't open a door she sure does know about your music taste."

Becky leaned back so that he could put his arms around her shoulders. In the back of her mind she remembered a voice singing, and the feel of the piano keys under her fingers. She listened to the sounds of the plasma for awhile until the song ran its course. Dave reached out and said;

"How about an old favorite?"

With a few more keystrokes their song was played. It was all she could do not to grin and laugh. Becky watched the lights dance through the air few more seconds, snuggling a little closer in his arms. After that she hesitated. Licking her lips she rolled her head onto his shoulder and murmured;

"You know…I think…you know, we've only been back together for a few months now," she said.

"I don't think we were ever actually together in the fourth grade," laughed Dave, "Otherwise I think I might've liked it more."

She would've laughed if her throat wasn't so dry now. Becky had no fear of rejection, not from him. However, she had never done this before; never felt anything even remotely like what she was feeling at that very minute. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath. Now that she had brought up the topic she couldn't very well drop it.

"Well, whatever you want to call it," she swallowed, "It hasn't been long but I think…I **know**…I'm in love with you."

She felt Dave's grip around her slacken. Turning around she saw that he had had to grip the back of the cage for support. He blinked at her and smiled wryly.

"Aren't I supposed to declare my love first?" he asked hesitantly.

"I don't care if you're learning spells made by Merlin and how to sword fight," she said, "This is the modern world."

"Right, because my Tesla coils make me forget," replied Dave, "But…you know how I feel, right?"

"Yes," she said before deciding to press her luck, "But I'd like to hear you say it all the same."

"Okay," he answered, clearing his throat in a rather dramatic fashion.

Becky turned around so that she could face him. No matter how strangely this ended she still wanted to see his face for this. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again she saw an intensity. It was the intensity and love she had seen through her terror when Horvath had held her prisoner. The words didn't seem important anymore, but it still made her weak in the knees to hear;

"I love you too."

Standing on her tiptoes she kissed him gently; first on the forehead and then on the lips. Becky couldn't help but smile when she saw that he was still turning red when she did that. Pulling away he smiled at her and reached over at the computer, shutting it off. The lights went back on and he opened the door to the cage.

"Dinner?" he asked, "There's this great place downtown that does Mexican."

She twined her hand with his as they ascended to the real world.

"Sounds great."

.

.

.

"**Tastes **great. Nice work on this one."

Horvath watched as the man ripped a bone from the carcass in front of him and sliced off some of the meat with his fingernails. He repressed the urge to wrinkle his nose. While it was imperative that someone in that condition eat human flesh every meal to prevent decay, it wasn't pleasant. He ate with a ravenous appetite and liked them as freshly dead as possible.

At least the fresh meat had made smell go away, and he was no longer that peculiar gray color. Horvath wasn't sure how his eyes were faring, he had kept sunglasses over them at all times. Where he had gotten those, or the modern clothes, Horvath didn't know but he could guess.

"So, to review," the man said as he licked his fingers, "A lab that's probably protected now, university student, radio station lover, awful liar, and he couldn't write an essay in the fourth grade. Not bad, but it appears that we know little of the man himself."

He looked thoughtfully at the remaining bones.

"We know his companions milord," Horvath offered.

"Yes, I suppose **you** do," he said, cracking open a bone and starting to scoop out the marrow, "And I have some knowledge as well. But things have changed. It doesn't look like we can count on the modern Morganians for reinforcements, ridiculous creatures that they've become. They may be useful as cannon fodder though. Thank you for finding that out for me."

He paused and scowled.

"Yes, I know," he said, "No, your advice is invaluable to me, you know that. But please, I'm eating."

Shaking his head he turned back to the bone. Horvath had noticed that he did that with a frightening regularity. Again, he didn't know exactly what was going on, but he was willing to bet quite a considerable amount of money. Finishing with the bone the man threw it over his shoulder and shook his head.

"You know," he said, "Human meat is sweeter than anything I've had before this. Why do you think that is?"

"I couldn't say."

"Perhaps it's the sugar intake," he said, "But it's rather tender. That last one was a little fatty but at least there's no real hide or fur to speak of."

Wiping his hands on a napkin he said;

"The Rising didn't work, which is a shame. But it's no longer necessary."

"Milord?"

"Oh Horvath," he said, snapping his fingers, "You read the old stories. You know to what I refer."

"Rumors milord, I've heard only rumors."

"Rumors that are true," he said, stretching, "Domination can wait though. We'll take care of the local magicals and this 'Dave' before we really get going. Don't worry, Balthazar's all yours."

"Thank you Milord."

"Please stop calling me that," he smiled, "Respect is good, but only to a point. If you're to be my second then I believe that I can afford to allow you to use my first name."

Horvath raised his eyebrows but nodded.

"Oh, but just the full name, no nicknames," he added, "Mordred. If you call me Mordy then I'm afraid I'd have to kill you."

_**A/N: **__Yeah, like everyone hadn't already figured that one out. ;)_


	13. Chapter 13

Dave chewed on the end of his pen. When he was younger his mother had gotten angry at him for doing it, calling it a filthy habit that would ruin his teeth. Now that he was living miles away from her he had resumed. He found it a good way to keep himself awake and look like he was paying attention in class at the same time.

He sighed. As geeky as it sounded, physics had always been the high spot of his academic day. Never before had he had trouble keeping himself awake in his favorite class. It wasn't even like it was a hot day out, autumns in New York were notorious for being cold after all. It was just that he was tired.

In fact, he had never felt this tired whenever he had been in any class. Bennet had always loudly complained about getting caught sleeping on his desk, but Dave had never had this problem. Not even when he was in high school, or going through that stressful period being dragged from doctor to doctor, did he fall asleep in his classes.

Then again, never before had he been 'participating'. He shuddered at the word, remembering that stupid wolf calendar that had been mercifully flipped to a bunch of caribou for October. Dave had always found himself on the fringes of life, looking in. He hadn't been particularly envious, because envious implied that he knew what he was missing out on. Instead he had always been curious as to what a life like that had been like.

The answer was stressful. Of course, most people didn't have to deal with magic training on the side. Inwardly he winced from the memory of a particularly brutal blow he had taken to his ribs from a sword and an ache in his neck from a manipulation gone wrong. However, he figured he could count it as the physical activity his P.E teachers had never thought he'd gotten enough of. Possibly he could count it as a club too.

Becky now, she was different. She was a girlfriend, a serious one, something he'd never had. She took up a lot of time, not that he really minded. However, it did mean that there was another option after classes were over to add to 'sleep' and 'work on Tesla coils'. Dave had never really counted T.V.

He figured that it was like the _Spiderman _comics he'd liked when he was younger. Dave had liked the cartoon too, but whenever the cable went out he would be stuck with nothing. At one point bed sheets with the webslinger had decorated his bed. At that age he had managed to be into them for just long enough to get labeled a complete comic nerd. It was just his luck really.

Anyway, he saw himself as a more realistic Peter Parker. After all, he had the much prettier girlfriend, the great powers with **extreme **responsibility, and school to boot. However, Peter Parker had never had to take medication to make him sleep at night. He also didn't have to fake prescriptions of glucose pills so his mother didn't notice.

The bell rang and he realized that he hadn't taken any notes at all. He sighed in frustration and started picking up his books. Sorcery was complicating things, like he should've known that it would. School was getting in the way, and he found himself wondering if he could possibly graduate earlier. After all, **real** sorcerers shouldn't have to worry about something as time-consuming as school.

.

.

.

"Ashley, what the hell possessed you to come here in that?" Kate exclaimed.

The teenager turned scarlet and looked down at her sports track suit, black and white and green. Her bow and quiver were slung across her back, adding a level of surrealism. Kate and Michael were both wearing sewage worker uniforms, which contrasted horribly with the bright colors of Ashley's garments.

"There was going to be a pep rally at my high school later, and I was in a hurry," she said, trying to hide her blushes by fiddling with her hair.

"God save us from pep rallies," muttered Kate.

Ashley looked up and said;

"Michael said it was an emergency."

Kate's eyes slid over to the man at her side. He shrugged but seemed to have a hard time keeping in laughter.

"Not enough of an emergency for you to come from school in that," sighed Kate, "Not to mention you're just carrying a bow and arrows around with you like a backpack. Really, do you just carry those to school every day?"

"In my locker."

Kate took a very deep drag of her cigarette. She was holding it so tightly that she was practically crushing it. Ashley noticed.

"There's an archery club, and I'm president," she said nervously, "It gives me an excuse to have them around."

She took another drag. Apprentices, especially ones who had only been training for a few years like Ashley, had always been a little painful to have around. The craft needed new blood, but their mistakes got weirder every year. When Michael had been an apprentice he had tried to use magic to clean his room. He was lucky that his father came home early and was able to free him from the dirty clothes, which were attempting to suffocate him.

Ashley hadn't even had a particularly magical background. They wouldn't have been able to find her at all if Jack Preston hadn't taught at her school. She had good, if not inconsistent, talent. Now if only she'd keep her head on a bit more then she wouldn't be half as frustrating as she was.

"Whatever. I don't think I'm interested anymore," said Kate, shaking her head, "But if Justin found out what you came here in he'd throw a fit."

Ashley froze. Ah yes, far too terrified of her Master.

"Please don't tell Mr. Richards," Ashley said earnestly, "I'll get into trouble again. I mean, it's not like I do this on purpose."

"Therein lies the problem," said Kate, "But don't worry, I won't tell him."

"Thanks!"

"Don't be thanking me just yet," Kate said drily, "I still haven't told you why I called you out of school for this. I know it's inconvenient, but you and Michael here were the closest people I had. "

"So, what's going on then?" asked Ashley, splashing over to them.

"This," Kate said, holding up a bone.

Ashley shrugged.

"Yeah, it's sad," she said, "Sometimes animals get washed up down here-"

"I grew up in New York too you know," Kate interrupted, "So I don't need a lecture. This isn't an animal bone, and it's not very old."

She turned it to the side so that Ashley could see the deep rips and gouges in it. It'd been hacked to pieces in search of marrow or other meaty remnants. Making a retching noise Ashley closed her eyes tightly. Michael repressed more laughter and Kate put it down with the others they'd found.

"That's the eight femur we found," Michael explained, "And they all seem to have been dumped together. So that's at least four people. Normally I'd say it was a magical beast that some moron let loose but-"

"-we're seeing evidence of planned disposal," Kate interrupted, "And not many do that. I don't think there's anyone in the area with the graft to summon one of those, except one I think, and he doesn't do stuff like this. Now normally having a magical beast would be pretty bad. But like Michael suggested, that's not what this is. The vibrations I'm getting are far too strong, which means it's actually worse."

"Why would a Morganian, and those guys are pretty messed-up, want to be munching on people though?" asked Michael, "I mean, I haven't read anything that says it gives you power or any sort of benefit."

"Neither have I," agreed Kate, "But keep in mind weird things have been happening since June."

"Specify weird," Michael said.

"Weirder than normal anyway," Kate replied with a roll of her eyes, "Now I'm not saying that the Prime Merlinian's set off some sort of magical apocalypse, but something is up. We haven't even been able to find anyone to ask questions either, and that's irritating."

"Well, nothing really bad has happened," Ashley pointed out, "Except for this I mean. This is pretty bad."

"I agree with you there," Kate said, "So I think that-"

She was interrupted by the ringing of her phone. Rolling her eyes she took it out of her pocket.

"Kate Falstaff here," she said.

She rolled her eyes again.

"Nice to hear from you too George," she said, "But for the last time we didn't dispose of Drake Stone so if you'd please-"

She stopped and frowned.

"Then why-?"

Kate went quiet.

"Glastonbury huh? What crypt? Unnamed?"

She made a tsking noise.

"Yes, I can see how that's a problem," she said, "But, and I hate to put it like this, what makes it our problem?"

She smirked a little before her eyes contorted in anger.

"Well wouldn't that be convenient for you?" she said, "No…of course it's an honor but come on! I mean, what makes you think it'll be safer here? I'm not sure if you've noticed, but New York hasn't ever been exactly safe. And right now we're kinda going through another incident."

The other two Merlinians watched quietly. In the end Kate sighed and said;

"Alright. But you need to know something first. We haven't found him yet. No, no-of course we didn't train him!"

Kate rolled her eyes.

"Look, believe whatever the hell you want George. You can expect me in two days tops and we'll make sure to find him. You have my guarantee and word of honor I'll get it to the Prime Merlinian."

Shutting off her cell phone she stuffed it in her pocket. She looked at the other two in an exasperated manner.

"Who was that?" asked Michael.

"George Tanner, Grand Sorcerer of England," she said, "Nice guy, I've had tea with him a few times. Stubborn as hell though."

She went to scratch her head before she remembered the gloves she was wearing. She stopped in mid-reach and lowered it.

"Gather up the bones," she said, "Least we can do is give a proper burial. We've got to get back to Justin ASAP. There's been a lovely little complication."

"Which is?" asked Michael.

"I'm going to merry old England," she snorted.


	14. Chapter 14

"Kate."

"George," Kate said conversationally, "Have a seat."

George looked around him before sitting down, his hand still remaining on a suitcase that he was clutching like it was a life raft. There was no reason to though. The tearoom was an old favorite of theirs for business. It was a safe, secure place, and near where George did most of his work.

It was only the ones in Europe who were still able to work out of castles, and they were an increasingly rare breed. None of them were able to use one as well known as him though. As Grand High Sorcerer certain privileges had been allocated to him, like the use of the Tower of London. It was the only place for it really.

Kate sipped her tea and gestured to the scones and jam on the table.

"Have some."

"I'm not in the mood for sweets."

"Come on," she urged, "Get something to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

In truth that was a lie. He hadn't eaten for a long time. He probably looked gaunt and had dark circles under his eyes. He was going gray before his time, something that came with the responsibilities he'd inherited ten years ago. As sorcerers went, he really wasn't very old at all. George was in his early-forties, his real early-forties. His rejection of longevity spells was deep rooted; it was the curse of all sorcerers. That included, unfortunately, the woman sitting across from him.

"Pity, real pity," Kate said, setting the tea down, "Just like the coffee in this country actually. I mean, the British are responsible for some of the greatest innovations in the world; magical and technological. But they can't make a damn cup of coffee to save their lives. Cryin' shame."

"Kate-"

"That's why I always order tea-"

"Kate-"

"-that they can do like no one on the face of the planet-"

"Kate!" he insisted, "This is important."

"It's always important," she said vaguely.

He looked at her and picked up a scone.

"There we go," she said.

"Listen to me," he said, "I'm going to ask you one more time; who's the Prime Merlinian?"

"Don't know," she said, "You know I wouldn't lie."

"Unless it suited you," sighed George as he cut the scone open and slathered it with clotted cream, "I hope that you're not taking this the wrong way."

"How should I be taking it?" she asked sharply.

"Oh Kate," sighed George, "I don't really think you're lying. I'm having fun convincing the royal family and my fellow sorcerers though."

"They know me, they know I would just refuse to tell them if I actually knew," Kate said, "I've been around for a while."

"Yes, they know you," he said, "But they don't know Justin Richards."

Kate put down her cup.

"What are you saying?"

"Kate, I'm warning you, as a friend," he said, "Justin Richards sits on John Steed's throne, but he doesn't have half of his sense or dignity. He's incurred a great deal of ill-will among us."

"Now that's real nice."

"I'm not feeling like being nice right now. He's alienated half the states," George said icily, "and he's offended most members of the European societies. We need to keep in touch, and this latest outrage is a little much. The Prime Merlinian, Merlin's heir, is somewhere within his city, and what has he done?"

"We're looking," Kate said, her hands itching for her left pocket where she always kept her cigarette case.

Shaking his head George pointed to a no-smoking sign.

"It's still no-smoking in here," he said firmly, "There's a law about that now."

"Great, just great."

"And furthermore Kate, **you're **looking, not him," he said, "Tell me, does he even bother to train his apprentices these days? Or is that just you cleaning up after him too? When was the last time you were able to go abroad, to do your job, without worrying that things would fall apart?"

She glared at the table.

"Kate, they would all follow you if you challenged him," he said.

Biting her lip she redirected her glare towards him.

"I know where this is going," she answered, her words deliberate, "I was afraid you'd do this again, but the answer is still no. I'm a courier George, a courier."

"And a very good one," agreed George, "But we know you're stronger than him. He doesn't have the will to rule New York."  
"We don't rule," she said sharply.

"Guard then," George said, "Listen to me. Most of my peers wouldn't like me telling you this. We don't really appreciate all the other branches knowing our dirty secrets. But that crypt…it was opened months ago."

"And you didn't notice it?"

"No," he said, "we didn't. Someone was brought back to the dead in a way so subtle that we didn't recognize it. It happened right under the nose of one of our most trusted, loyal, powerful agents. Kate, that kind of power hasn't been around for millennium."

"I thought you said you didn't know who was in there."

"We still don't," George replied, "That's why everything is worrying us so much. There's nothing in the Incantus of anyone of that power being buried in Glastonbury. Merlin was burned and Arthur was reinterred, even if we were just getting a sympathetic magical background. But it's subtle Kate, very subtle."

She frowned and he continued.

"That's why we want to get this out of here to someone who can protect it. The royal family doesn't like it anymore than we do, this going to America. But they understand the necessity."

"I'll bet they do," she said, "How long did it take to talk them into it?"

"Unimportant," George said, "Right now something is going on now that the Prime Merlinian has been found, perhaps what happened in Glastonbury and what happened in New York are even connected. That's why I need your word and not his. It's why I contacted you instead of him."

"I'm a contact point."

"That's not why I did it though."

Kate drummed her fingernails on the table.  
"It's in the suitcase, right?"

"Kate-"

"We're going to talk shop, just shop, only shop," she said, "I'm tired of having this conversation."

"John Steed wanted-"

"He wanted a lot of things," snapped Kate, "But times change, okay? So just give me the suitcase."

Sighing he passed it over to her. Her fingertips traced the leather stitching.

"I can't feel anything," she said, "Not even a ripple. And I'm good at this."

"Its protections are old, very old," he said, "They are renewed and multiplied by every generation. However, I'll tell you how to dismantle them when the time comes."

George looked at it wistfully.

"I've never even seen it," he said, "And they say that it was his greatest work, his most powerful monument."

"Perhaps," she said, "But I think what he gave the world was people. Everyone he taught tried to live a dream."

George sighed.

"About the Prime Merlinian, and it's not what you think," he added quickly, "But I'd feel a lot better if you could at least tell me who's training him, you or someone you trust."

"He's not with us. He's a hard one to find for all of his youth and inexperience," replied Kate, "But I know who's training him even if I haven't met him."

"That sounds odd, but who? Anything I can give them. They think he should've been English."

"Hey, most modern Americans were English at some point," shrugged Kate, "But I think his master is who he was supposed to be."

George looked at her thoughtfully and took a bit of a scone.

"He's dead."

"Like he'd really die," she said derisively, "There are signs he's in New York."

"Could be a copycat."

"Nope," she said, "You've never met the man. I have. His magic has a sort of…green flavor to it that you don't get anywhere else."

"Flavor?"

"You have trouble picking up on the nuances," she said, "But that's my specialty. I can tell you what it smells like too, but that'd be just as hard to describe. He wouldn't be around if he wasn't with the Prime Merlinian. It was his destiny, as written about in the Arcana Nineve. It's a gut instinct George, a gut instinct."

"Do you have any confirmation other than that?"

"An Eagle goes missing from the Chrysler building, what do you think?" she snorted, picking up the suitcase.

He grabbed her hand.

"Kate," he said.

Her face softened momentarily.

"Look, George, it's great to see you again, it really is," she said, "But I can't do what you're asking. I can't do things like this right now. It's far too much and you know I'm not…I know what you think, I am, what I'm capable of. But believe me when I say that I'm better as I am."

"Many of us would disagree," George said, "But you've made up your mind. Find the Prime Merlinian, that belongs to him now. One day he may bring it back and I hope he does. But I have a feeling he'll be needing it soon."

"I hope not," Kate said, glancing down at the suitcase.

"Me too," said George, "He looked awful young to be using something like this."


	15. Chapter 15

"Halloween then, the thirty first of October. Rather different, isn't it?" Veronica asked thoughtfully.

"Yes," Balthazar explained, "I know it was called All Hallow's Eve then, but people think Halloween is easier to say or something."

"And this pumpkin business?" she asked as she finished drawing a face on the pumpkin's surface.

Balthazar smiled at her. She had insisted on celebrating all of the new holidays, or at least ones that were slightly different to her, in their full and unadulterated glory. So the task of explaining and figuring out just what the new traditions were fell to Balthazar. Thanksgiving, the next big one, had been easy to explain. It was just a feast day with religious undertones. There had been a good deal of them back then.

The real trouble came in the ones that had been changed or removed. Most of the aforesaid feast days were gone, for example. It had also come as a shock to her to learn of the removal of many of the Lenten benchmark days and that Christmas had shrunk to one day instead of twelve. Halloween had been rearranged as well.

"I know you're used to gourds," said Balthazar as he disposed of the insides of the pumpkin and tried to remember what they had all used to do, "But, as I've shown, pumpkins are much easier to carve. Believe it or not I think that's the** real** reason that the explorers brought them back from America."

"I can believe that," she said, putting the marker down, "The jack-o-lanterns were a way to keep the Devil away though. Now they look…cheery."

"That's how it goes," Balthazar said, "Things get commercialized real fast."

"Hmph," she said.

"I ran into this one fellow once," laughed Balthazar, "Know how he celebrated Halloween?"

"How?"

"He went up to the local church and nailed 95 theses on why the Catholic church needed to be reformed," Balthazar said, "Took Europe by storm, let me tell you that."

Veronica rolled her eyes and started carving the jack-o-lantern face.

"There is one thing that I truly don't understand though," she said as she finished one of the eyes, "Why on earth do people insist on including children in this macabre and unseemly celebration? Like that fellow with the yellow shirt and the black stripe, and the other one with the blanket-"

"Charlie Brown and Linus," supplied Balthazar.

He had thought it would be a good idea to let her know about all aspects of Halloween. Of course, she had rather liked _It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown_, more so than _Dracula _and _Frankenstein _anyway. He had ruled out the world's entire considerable amount of slasher flicks, which he figured would be too much too fast.

It had had the strange side affect of letting her know that children were now involved in the holiday though. He had been surprised that she hadn't known, until he considered that most children were shut up when they were younger on that day. Balthazar had been surprised that he had forgotten that, and it was a little unsettling.

"It's just…well," Veronica said, searching for the appropriate words, "Surely they can't see that as a good idea?"

"Ironically it's mostly a children's holiday these days," he said, "Trick-or-treating and all that. Adults have a habit of wearing costumes that tend to be a bit gory or in plain bad taste and going to parties."

"But they put the children in masks and then they **let them wander aimlessly around the neighborhood**," she said, shaking her head in exasperation, "You told me that some go by themselves, no adults or anything. Their parents put them in masks. So why do they let them out at all?"

"They don't know that the reason they wear the masks is so that the demon Samhain won't be able to see and kill them. They just do it until they're old enough to know the roots of the tradition, if they ever find out at all, and then they keep silent about it to their kids," he said, grinning, "Admittedly it is a little gruesome. I mean, would you explain that to any child of ours?"

Slowly Veronica put the knife down. She turned towards him and blinked. Her mouth opened a little before closing. He frowned at her expression and wondered if he had something on his face or there was something odd outside of the window. His brain quickly made him backtrack and recount what he had said. Balthazar felt himself go hot, and his palms went sweaty.

"Of course by that I mean whenever you're ready, or want some, or…or…" he felt himself go silent by realizing the stupidity of his words.

"Ready?" she repeated, walking up to him and cupping his face with her hands, "Beloved, I've dreamed of Blake children with glittering blue eyes and raven hair since I was nineteen. I am very much ready."

She cocked her head.

"I…just didn't know if you wanted them."

He smiled at her nervously.

"One day I'd like one or two, of course I would," he said, "But I'm not sure how I'd do as…a father."

"You'd be wonderful," said Veronica reassuringly.

"Thanks for the sentiment," he said, "Not sure I agree though. As for right now…I thought it would be better to wait a little bit."

"Well obviously not now," she agreed, "We're not even married yet."

"Yeah," said Balthazar, "And Dave's a handful enough as it is."

She smiled knowingly at him and he felt like smacking himself.

"I didn't mean-" he started.

"I know what you meant, I know what you meant," she said, turning away from him, "And as for how you'd do as a father, I wouldn't worry. You'd just need to look at how you're doing as a Master."

"I wouldn't throw plasma bolts at our children-!" he started indignantly.

"If you were training them you would," she said, picking up the knife again, "And you'd be confident in them catching it. But Dave respects you greatly, and you're not just a Master to him. You know that."

He nodded mutely.

"Then you'll see that you're doing just fine," she said, "Now, let's finish up with the pumpkin. Keep the Devil out."

.

.

.

"Do you smell that?" asked Mordred casually.

Horvath shook his head. They were standing in a small graveyard at the edge of New York City. He had no idea why they were there; Mordred and his mother had always preferred to remain enigmatic. Either that or they didn't fully trust him, which he didn't really blame them for. He had never really trusted them either.

"Rot," Mordred said as he looked around the graveyard, "This place is swimming with it. I can feel it, smell it. It always amazed me that people dropped the meat suits of the ones they loved in holes for the worms to eat even before I died. There's no finesse and no dignity. I mean, really."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and crouched down. Mordred looked at the blank gravestone in front of him.

"Buried outside of the perimeters of hallowed ground. This him then?" he asked, "Are you sure?"

Horvath didn't say anything. He knew he wasn't being talked to.

"Good," he said, taking a handful of dirt off of the grave, "I'll make a note of that."

Stuffing the dirt into a sack he looked over his shoulder at Horvath. He gestured to the grave.

"Did you know him?"

"In passing," Horvath shrugged, "He was useful for a time."

"Isn't that the way?" laughed Mordred unpleasantly, "It's so hard to find people who will be useful continuously. I'm glad you stayed loyal; makes things so much easier."

Smiling strangely he got to his feet.

"So that's a step done," he said, "Dirt from the grave of a damned man. It's an ingredient, and a useful one at that."

He smiled.

"Thank you for teaching me physical magic."

Turning to Horvath now he said;

"We're outnumbered right now, but not necessarily outgunned," he said, rocking back and forth on his heels, "We'll have to look at this whole thing strategically though, I'm not going to fail again. If this were a war, the next logical thing to do would be to go and get a lay of the land."

"A lay of the land?" repeated Horvath slowly.

"Habits," he said, "We'll do a tail on them, see where they go, that sort of thing. I've got a spell for that; it won't work if we try to attack them, but we can probably go unnoticed if we don't try to interact with them."

Horvath nodded.

"And then?"

"A preliminary strike," said Mordred, raising the sack of grave dirt, "What did you think this was for?"

He laughed.

"Oh, don't answer that," he said, "It won't be the main attack though. We're just testing the waters right now, seeing how much he knows, how fast Balthazar will run to save his precious apprentice, that sort of thing. Killing them would be out of the question. It's unrealistic for the first attack. If we actually managed to do that then I'd be very, very surprised. What we're out to do now is to wound them."

Throwing his head back he laughed again.

"God it's good to be doing this," he said, "You know what it's like to be without flesh and bones and substance. You understand."

His hand touched his forehead.

"But I was barely even a consciousness. And that Horvath, that gives a man far too much time for him to reflect."

He flexed his fingers.

"Now I'd really like to kill a few people," Mordred said, "Pity Balthazar is yours…but the Prime Merlinian will have to do."


	16. Chapter 16

_**A/N: **__That wasn't actually Drake's grave in the last chapter. It was just the grave of some 16__th__ century sorcerer that Horvath once knew, a real nutjob. Interesting leap of logic though. _

"-and a cold front just came over. There's snow all outside the front yard. It'll probably be gone by morning though."

Becky smiled. She was currently lying on her bed in her room, wrapped up in a comforter. Her cell phone was pressed tightly to her ear, as though she didn't want to miss a word. She had changed into her pajamas a few minutes before the call; it was getting rather late after all. She'd been planning on calling it an early night but then the phone call came and her plans had changed entirely.

"It's cold here too," she said, "No snow though. The radiator broke down a few days ago, so right now we're making do with electric blankets."

"A few days ago? Didn't you get someone to come in and look at it?"

"We did," Becky shrugged, "But they think some of the pipes have frozen up. Now it's up to the New York City Plumbing Department, so we don't exactly have high hopes of it getting done any time soon."

"Unreliable, those city services."

"You can say that again," agreed Becky, "But enough of that. Keep describing Wisteria Gable."

"There's not much else to describe," the voice laughed, "We had a fresh coat of cream and coffee paint a few weeks ago. It's a pity, I would've kept it faded a little longer, just to give it that haunted house feel."

"And the pointy gates you stick jack-o-lanterns on every year doesn't make it look haunted?" asked Becky, bringing a cup of cocoa she'd made earlier to her lips.

"No, this year it's going to be the bats doing that."

Becky choked on the cocoa. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

"You don't mean to say you've got live bats this year?" she spluttered.

"Just in very humane cages. Goodness, you act like I've let them run wild. I'll send you a few pictures."

She set down her mug of cocoa. Despite her grandmother's age, and eighty-four was considerable, she was always up for decorating for the holidays. She seemed to enjoy it immensely, and her age couldn't keep her down. Yet, despite the jocundity, there was also a soft, graceful side to her.

Becky had seen that often when she was younger. It was hard to understand really, she herself had never fully gotten it. Her grandmother had been blind from a childhood accident since she was thirteen. That might account for her beautiful and perfect balance, but it didn't explain why she looked like a woman in her mid-sixties, not eighties.

She chattered on, talking about the different types of candies that she was planning on giving out and other preparations.

"Grandma," she said, "I think you've outdone yourself this year."

"You say that every year Becky," she said, "But it's a real shame that I can't give out popcorn balls anymore. Parents don't seem to like it after those razor blades in the apples and poisoned candy. It's just as well, I only ever liked **making** them, not actually eating them. I am sorry to see the cookies go though."

"Are we talking about the sugar cookies?" asked Becky.

"Do I ever make any other for Halloween?" she asked back, "Besides, you know perfectly well how this goes. Sugar for Halloween, Chocolate chip for Christmas, Peanut butter for Easter, and snickerdoodles on special occasions in-between."

Becky closed her eyes lightly.

_She flung open the staircase and threw her backpack to the floor. Immediately Becky started crying, rubbing her eyes furiously. Alix, her grandmother's golden retriever, came sniffing around her. Upon seeing Becky's distress she sat on her haunches and started licking her face. Wrapping her arms around the dog she sniffled again._

"_Becky?" a voice called as footsteps came into the room, "There's no need to slam the door you know."_

_Without another word Becky hurried away from the door and up the staircase. She didn't stop until she was in her room and the door was securely shut and locked behind her. The key had been a gift for the start of the school year, and unfortunately this was the first time using it. It had been given to her as a sign that she was growing up, that she was ready to face responsibility. _

_Right now though, she didn't feel like facing much of anything. The fifth grade didn't seem like it would be very special anymore. Flinging herself on her bed she cried some more. Becky buried her face in her pillow and started indulging in self-pity as much as she could allow. She was alone now, it was alright. _

_Sniffling a little more she resolved that she was going to be miserable forever. Becky had heard that people could just pine away, and she was determined to do the same. If a romantic heroine could do it, then why couldn't she? It wouldn't be fair for them to waste away and her to stay healthy forever. _

_Alix came after some time and scratched at the door, but there was no other sign that anyone knew she was there. Around an hour later she smelt something though. Becky sat up in her bed and sniffed again. A cinnamon smell was filling the air, making her mouth water. She was suddenly reminded that, in her distress, she hadn't felt much like eating her lunch. Becky hadn't felt hungry at the time. Now she did._

_With great reluctance she got up. She unlocked the door and Alix thumped her tail on the floor a few times. Together they descended the stairs, one at a time. She was still resolved to be miserable forever, but eating something would probably be alright. The women died of __**grief**__, not of starvation._

_Cautiously Becky peered around the door to the kitchen. Two glasses of milk were on the table, but her eyes weren't turned towards that. They were turned to where she saw her grandmother using a spatula to pry some cookies off of a tray. Without looking around her grandmother told her;_

"_I sent Joanna and Phillip home early today. Take a seat and get comfortable, these are fresh out of the oven."_

_Joanna was the housekeeper and Phillip was the butler. They were an almost non-existent entity in her life, since her grandmother insisted she clean her own room. Still, knowing that it was just the two of them made her feel a little safer. Becky sat down and Alix lay down near her, probably hoping for table scraps._

_Two warm snickerdoodles were laid in front of her. Her grandmother had some for herself and sat on the opposite side of the table._

"_Now then," she said, "Something happen on your first day back?"_

"_No," Becky said firmly._

_Her grandmother cocked her head. She started to slide Becky's plate away from her._

"_Well, if you're not going to talk then I guess you don't get any snickerdoodles-"_

"_Wait!" pleaded Becky._

_The plate stopped its progress.  
"I'll tell," she said with a defeated sigh._

_The plate was returned to her._

"_Well, you know what happened when we took that field trip at the end of last year," she said._

"_Yes…the boy who…left the group," her grandmother answered tactfully._

_Becky nodded, glad that her grandmother wasn't referring to him by his name even though she knew it. Nor was she calling him 'psycho-Stutler' like the kids at school were. She knew her granddaughter's feelings about the subject. Becky told her grandmother everything, even things she hadn't even told her closest friends. _

"_He transferred over the summer. Never even said goodbye," Becky said miserably, taking a big bite of one of her snickerdoodles, "And after I finish up here I'm going to go upstairs and die."_

"_You're not going to die," she answered, "I'd be very sad if you did that."_

_ "I don't want you to be sad," frowned Becky, "Just tell me you wouldn't mind terribly if I went to my room and died of grief."_

_ "I would mind that very much," she said firmly, "Now, first love can be tough, but you are exceedingly young to die from that. Not for a reason like this anyway."_

_ "But what if he was the one?"_

_ Her grandmother sighed and bit into her cookie._

_ "I've got to tell Joanna to stop leaving on the T.V," she said, "Listen, Becky, people generally don't get married to their fourth grade crushes."_

_ "You did."_

_ "I was an exception," she said, "But Becky, it really isn't the end of the world."_

_ "But they were saying he was crazy," argued Becky, starting to voice one of her biggest fears about the incident, "I don't think he was crazy. But if he was it was my fault."_

_ "Now you really are being ridiculous."_

_ "You don't understand!" wailed Becky, "He gave me this note; I want to be Dave's friend or girlfriend and I picked girlfriend!"_

_ There was a very long pause._

_ "…and?"_

_ "And? And? Isn't it obvious?" asked Becky incredulously "He didn't want me to be his girlfriend and it shocked him into going crazy! I make people crazy!"_

_ "Becky, I'm quite sure that's not what it was," her grandmother said, struggling to hold in laughter._

_ "Really?"_

_ "Yes, really. Have another snickerdoodle."_

_ The two of them talked until late into the night. Well, until her bedtime anyway. Board games had been brought out and they camped out in the living room with the fold-out sofa. There hadn't been any dinner that night, just snickerdoodles. After that night Becky found herself going back into the fifth grade, feeling a good deal better about herself. _

"Wait until you see Christmas, I'm going to try a new chocolate chip cookie recipe," her grandmother assured her, snapping her back into the present, "And the decorations will be quite nice as well. I'm really having everyone go all out this year. I was thinking a twelve days of Christmas theme. What do you think?"

"Sounds amazing," she replied, "You're not really going to have a real partridge in a real pear tree, right?"

"Don't be silly. Poor thing would freeze to death. You're going to need to bundle up pretty warmly when you come over here for Thanksgiving."

There was a slight pause on the other side of the phone. The words, when they came, were tentative.

"Unless, of course, you have other plans."

"Of course I don't have any other plans Grandma," Becky said, sounding surprised, "I come over every year for Thanksgiving. Why should I stop now?"

"Oh, I don't know," her grandmother answered, "I mean, you've got that boyfriend…again."

"We weren't together the first time," Becky said, rolling her eyes, "But he wouldn't stop me from coming over. He knows how much this means to me."

There was another pause.

"Does he have any plans?"

"I don't think so," said Becky slowly, "I could find out. Why?"

"Well," her grandmother said, "Seeing as how you've told him you loved him…things are getting serious. Maybe I could, or should, meet him."

Becky's breath caught.

"Hm, I suppose reacquaint is a better word," she said, "But I don't count one brief encounter when helping out with the school play."

"I'll ask him," Becky said, beaming, "I'll ask him."


	17. Chapter 17

Sweating Dave quickly raised up his sword just in time to avoid getting smacked across the head. He turned his wrist, hoping to push Veronica's sword aside. It didn't work as well as he'd hoped, but it gave him enough time to move away from her. His footwork was shaky at best, but as Veronica had once said;

"Don't try to be fancy when someone's trying to kill you."

Once again she came at him and their blades locked. He tried the move again in hopes of it working better. Instead he found that she was doing a reverse of that very move so instead of deflecting hers the sword flew out of **his** hands. Dave stumbled backwards just in time for Veronica to lightly tap him in the center of the chest.

"I've killed you Dave," she said solemnly.

"Yeah, I'm dead," he agreed, leaning up against the wall and panting heavily.

"Drama queen," Balthazar said absently from where he sat reading a book.

"You're doing better," Veronica said, leaning her sword against the wall and pushing a few sweaty strands of hair out of her face.

"Yes, you were only killed eight times in forty minutes," agreed Balthazar.

"Love?" Veronica asked.

"Yes?"

"Stop interrupting," she said before turning back to Dave, "You can't use the same moves so close together in similar situations. It's predictable, and what do you need to be when you're fighting?"

"Unpredictable," Dave parroted.

"Exactly. But even so," continued Veronica brightly, "I do believe that you've advanced to the next level. Yes, I know that I keep beating you and you feel like you're not making much progress. Keep in mind that I was given years of training and you've only been doing this for a month though."

"Next…level?" he panted.

"Take five," Veronica said instead of answering, "I'll show you then."

Sighing Dave headed over to the nearest chair. He slumped down into it and reached for a bottle of water. Ever since he had started the whole sword business he had started to keep bottled water around. The idea of water around so much electricity had made him nervous, remembering the incident with the mops. However, he was pretty sure he'd die without it.

Ripping open the top he drank the first half in almost one gulp. Still not looking up Balthazar said;

"Slow down, you'll make yourself sick."

Ignoring him Dave finished it. He wiped his mouth off with the back of his sleeve.

"There was actually something I wanted to talk to you about," he said awkwardly.

Immediately Balthazar looked up, his expression highly suspicious.

"To start with midterms are coming up in about a month," he said hesitantly.

"That's all?" asked Balthazar, "I'm relieved. From your tone I suspected that you'd actually done something that warranted consideration."

"I just want two weeks off," Dave said, rolling his eyes, "I need to study you know. Believe it or not I am hoping to get out of college sometime this decade."

Balthazar considered this for a minute. He looked over his shoulder at Veronica and said;

"I don't think I can spare him, what do you think?"

"Oh, I don't think you can either," Veronica agreed, retying the ponytail that held back her hair.

"Oh come on!" moaned Dave.

"Magic trumps scholastics. Sorry Dave, you'll just have to work yourself to death."

"You are trying to kill me then," Dave muttered.

An odd snorting sound made him pause. Balthazar had his hand over his mouth and Veronica was shaking silently.

"You think you're so funny, don't you?" asked Dave sarcastically.

"On the contrary, I **know** I'm **hilarious**," Balthazar said, "We'll compromise; a week and a half. No more and no less. You'll get two weeks for finals. And before you ask make sure to study over the winter break. We'll negotiate the lessons then."

"I'm having lessons over winter break?" exclaimed Dave.

"Probably," Balthazar shrugged, "You're excused for Christmas and the whole New Years arena. I'm not teaching you directly before or directly after my wedding."

He cast a glance over at Veronica, who had her back to him. He smiled before returning and saying;

"No leniency for Thanksgiving though."

"But I need that off," he argued, "I've got plans."

"Like?" asked Balthazar.

Dave swallowed awkwardly.

"Um, my Mom's visiting my uncle in Florida," he said.

"And you're going with her?" Balthazar asked.

"No," Dave answered, "You see, she hasn't seen him in a couple of years and we're trying to save on airfare."

"So it sounds like you don't actually have any plans and you're just wasting my time," Balthazar said.

Rolling his eyes Dave replied;

"I didn't have any plans for Thanksgiving because of that, but then Becky…um…you see….she was spending Thanksgiving with her grandmother and wanted to know if I wanted to come."

There was a long pause. Balthazar put his book down and Veronica looked over her shoulder. From what Dave understood Becky had told her, to a point, what had happened. They were good friends now, and while he was somewhat glad about that, he also secretly suspected Veronica was telling her embarrassing stories about his training.

"So you're actually **trying **to meet more of this monster family of hers?" asked Balthazar.

"Hey," said Dave, "That was just her mother. She actually likes her grandmother."

"Doesn't mean she won't be like the mother though."

"It probably does actually," argued Dave, "She isn't her mother's mother, comes from the father's side of the family. I'd like to make a good impression on this since it seems like she was the one who actually raised her…and her grandmother was the one who brought up the subject in the first place…"

"So she wants to meet you," Balthazar said thoughtfully, "Hm."

He rubbed his chin.

"Father's side," he muttered, "Barnes, Barnes, Barnes, Barnes…hm. There's something I'm forgetting…something extremely important, it was at the front of my mind a few weeks ago…damn I hate getting old-"

"You know," Veronica said, picking up on of the spare water bottles, "I'd say that that was closer to twelve minutes."

Swallowing some more water he screwed the cap back on and got to his feet. Slowly he picked up the sword from the wall and headed towards the center of the room. Veronica met him there and lightly tapped the ground. The Merlin Circle flared up, something that had never happened when they were normally practicing with swords.

"Now," she said, "we're getting to the root of the matter, why we bothered to teach you this in the first place other than to give you some basic combat experience. Here's where the magic comes in."

Her eyes flickered over to where Balthazar sat.

"I'd love to give another demonstration, but something like that takes two people."

Balthazar rolled his eyes.

"My back hurts today," he said.

"Of course," she said sweetly, "Now, where was I?"

"Magic with swords," Dave said.

"Ah, I remember," she said, "Alright; I've been telling you to treat your sword like an extension of your arm, albeit one less open to pain. But now I'm going to incorporate a little magic into this, and imagine it as an extension of your ring now."

She unscrewed the cap of the water bottle and poured its contents onto the floor. The water splashed onto the asphalt and she watched it until the bottle was empty. Throwing the bottle away she gently she touched the puddle with the tip of her blade. Closing her eyes she dragged the sword up into the air.

The water followed the tip of the metal into a stream. Every time she moved the sword the water moved with it, swirling and twirling in the air. She moved her arm fiercely and was just about able to form shapes. The whip of water was smacked down onto the ground and Dave couldn't imagine how painful it would be to be hit with something like that.

Veronica let the water drop and looked at him.

"Now, water's the easiest," she nodded, "There's already water in the air for example. It doesn't need more than a little assistance to join its friends."

Dave blinked. Veronica beckoned him forward and pointed to the puddle. He tried to do what she had told him, mimicking her actions. With great difficulty he was able to get the water to rise into the air somewhat. After only a few seconds it dropped down and Dave felt like he'd had the wind knocked out of him.

"It is more difficult than most magic," she said, seeing his effort, "but it's a useful skill for you to have."

"Let me phrase it this way Dave," called Balthazar, "Think intermolecular forces."

"Beloved," said Veronica sharply.

"Hey," shrugged Balthazar, "You're in charge of swords. I'm in charge of sorcery. I'm allowed in every now and then."

"Yes…but what are-?"

"Another time."

Dave closed his eyes and tried to do what Veronica had told him to, keeping in mind what Balthazar had said. It wasn't easy, it really wasn't. Sometimes it helped when Balthazar referred to things in physics terms. He had been raised with science, not with magic or anything like it. He had never even been a big _Harry Potter _fan when he was little.

He opened his eye a crack. The water was shakily doing what Veronica had done earlier. She nodded at him in approval.

"Now keep it steady until you feel like you can't do it anymore."

Swallowing hard he managed to make it another five minutes before he had to let it drop. Veronica gave a small clap.

"Good, good," she said, "Running the risk of praising you too much it took me a week to get it like this. You're very good on your first try. Most people don't even learn spells in a day, it takes them longer."

"Huh, really," Dave said, looking over to where Balthazar sat stoically.

"You're the Prime Merlinian," he shrugged, "I expect you to be good."

"Whatever," he said as he started to rummage around for his sword's sheath, "I've got about fifteen minutes to get to my next class."

"Which is?"

"Geography."

"How exciting," Balthazar said, getting up, "I think I'd rather jam a pencil in my eye than go and do that."

"Laugh all you want," muttered Dave as he headed for the staircase.

"Thank you, I will."


	18. Chapter 18

Veronica looked around the lobby, interested. Although the appointment had been made under the name 'Hunt', it had actually been Becky who had called and made the arrangements. Not only did Veronica feel uneasy about using a telephone, but she was rather ignorant about the best bridal boutiques in New York.

"Do you have a budget?" Becky asked as they waited, "Not for the wedding, the dress."

She hesitated before sighing. The details were still being hashed out, although many things were already figured out. Since they were planning on getting married in the afternoon of January first, which wasn't that far away really, most things had been done. It wasn't as though they needed to do too much though, considering how few guests there would be.

In fact, it was almost completely put together. The two of them would've been married a lot faster, say a few months ago, if Balthazar hadn't wanted to wait until their home and the documents securing her identity were done. However, the dress had been discussed only a little. Clothes weren't exactly his thing.

"No," she admitted, "I tried to ask Balthazar about that, but he said that it doesn't matter. He says we're not strapped for cash, it's been accumulating for so long for him. I can spend all I want on the dress as long as I'm happy with it."

Becky looked at her oddly but didn't say anything.

"For all his down-to-earth personality he can still be highly impractical sometimes," laughed Veronica.

"Well, let's say about eight hundred dollars tops then."

"Eight hundred?" asked Veronica incredulously, "Becky, I'm only wearing this dress once."

"Yeah, but you're wearing it once on your wedding day," she said.

"Eight hundred is a lot though," replied Veronica doubtfully.

"Well maybe we can find something a little lower," Becky speculated, "But keep in mind that wedding dresses are expensive. They use nice material with them, little crystals, lace, silk. Not to mention veils, gloves, tiaras, shoes, lots of things. It's a billion dollar industry."

She nodded again and tried to stop herself from wondering how she could spend eight hundred dollars better. A few carpets might be nice, or slippers if they were too hard to get. She couldn't help but get cold sometimes, no matter how far the heater was up. Then again, she was starting to get the idea that, with one thing and another, things were more expensive these days.

Not that she had ever had a good grip on money. Few were the occasions that much money had actually passed through her hands. Her family had been poor and mostly bartered, and Merlin had been in charge of getting things that she needed when they were gone. Still though, it seemed a little much to take in.

Veronica was snapped back into the presence by the arrival of her consultant. She took a deep breath, trying to keep in mind what little had been explained to her about exchange rates. Also, she had to remember that she was no longer in the world she'd grown up in. Taking a deep breath she got up.

"Miss Hunt," the girl said brightly, "My name is Jennifer. I'll be your bridal consultant today. And who's this?"  
She turned smilingly towards Becky.

"Maid of honor," Veronica said.

"Perfect," Jennifer said, "Would you be shopping for a dress too?"

Becky opened her mouth to deny it, but Veronica was too fast.

"Of course," she said, "I was thinking something in a light purple perhaps."

"Oh, we've got a new shipment," she said happily, "What were you thinking of for yourself?"

Veronica smiled weakly.

"Well…"

.

.

.

The problem was, Becky decided, that Veronica came from a time when fashion was cruel. From a very young age Veronica had been stuffed into huge, heavily layered skirts. Her sleeves had trailed on the floor behind her. She'd probably been crammed into hats with flowing veils and shoes with next to no support.

In this attire she had fought evil sorcerers and sorceresses. Admittedly she said that she had worn pants sometimes, but it didn't seem like that was the norm for her. In these dresses she had learned and earned her balance. She had also gained something called poise, and while normally it was a good thing, right now it wasn't helping.

To be perfectly blunt, Veronica knew how to walk in poofy gowns. Her head was always at the right angle, she always stood just right. She knew how to wear them too, with an air of one who was very confident in themselves. Whenever she came out of the dressing room, she looked like a Queen.

This was, of course, frustrating. Indeed, she looked like a Queen, but she didn't look like a **bride**. Even the addition of a veil didn't make any difference; she didn't look quite like a woman about to be married. Veronica knew it, Becky knew it, and Jennifer knew it. There was no kind of eureka for gowns like this and Jennifer was fretting. Gown after gown was pulled from the back, but nothing was working.

To take a break Veronica had suggested they look for an outfit for Becky. She protested Veronica paying for her dress, but she insisted and Becky caved. For her there was a simpler choice, although the purple shade that Veronica had had in mind a looked a little washed-out on her. Instead a pleated, knee-length scarlet gown was picked out.

The red was somewhat subtle, not glaring or loud but still a little sharp. Veronica was the textbook definition of a traditionalist after all. Still, it was quite pretty at the same time. Becky loved the way she looked in it, and made a mental note to show it to Dave. **That **would knock him speechless.

When they returned to Veronica though, the problem was the same. Jennifer seemed to be getting a little agitated. Becky wondered if she was perhaps trying to fill a sales quota or something. Then again, it could be that Jennifer just really liked the idea of finding the perfect dress for someone. It turned out to be the latter of the two when Jennifer came back, her eyes aglow, toting one last gown.

"Okay," she said, "This one is pretty simple. But I walked past it and I thought that we should give it a try."

Bravely Veronica put it on. Becky waited a few minutes out in the waiting area. Her dress had already been put aside and on a hanger. She could see it from where she was, being taken off to be dry-cleaned. She was starting to wonder how she should wear her hair with it when Veronica came back in.

Jennifer had been right; it was simple. It was a square-necked white dress with a soft lace overlay. The waist was high, but not quite an empire waist. The skirt trailed a behind in a small train. Becky didn't know how to categorize it. It wasn't an A-line dress, and it wasn't a trumpet dress. Perhaps it was a mix of the two.

Whatever it was though, whatever it was called, it was most definitely Veronica's dress. Even if Jennifer hadn't placed the veil in her hair that they had picked out earlier than she would still look like she was getting married. The gown seemed to fit her perfectly, almost as if it knew her, knew what she wanted. The cut of the neckline was even perfect for showing off the necklace from Balthazar.

When she caught sight of herself in the mirror Veronica's face changed. She stared at herself in the mirror and reached out to touch her reflection. When she realized what she was doing she quickly withdrew her hand, but remained looking at herself. She smiled rather shyly and turned to Becky.

"What do you think?"

For a moment she was speechless. It was hard to find the right words for a situation like this. Then she said simply;

"It's the one. It really is."

Smiling even brighter now Veronica turned to Jennifer and said;

"I'll take it."

From across the hall, one of two shadowy figures nudged the other in the ribs.

"Now that," said Mordred, "Is just peachy, innit?"

Horvath said nothing, just stared.

"If not for these blending spells I'd kill her right there," he sighed, "As it is I suppose I had better wait. Things are better for anticipation after all."

A few seconds passed. Then, very unobtrusively Horvath gave a small cough.

"If I may-" he started.

"Oh her too?" Mordred complained, "You get Lord Blakeson. I know you want him dead. That's all mother had to offer you in the first place! And I would've liked to do the set of the Blakesons, but I honor her agreement. But I've wanted to kill Veronica since I was eighteen."

His hand went to his face to stroke a thin, pale scar there. Horvath said nothing. Even in death he hadn't been able to lose the mark that Veronica had given him in vengeance. Mordred stroked it a few more times before very slowly removing his hand. He sighed and said, with great reluctance;

"You have been loyal though, and we reward loyalty. You can kill her, but let me in on the torture. I have a few ideas."

Mordred cocked his head and frowned.

"Unless…you…don't want to kill her?" he asked.

Horvath decided it was best not to say anything.

"Good God," Mordred said, struggling but failing to hide his laughter, "Really? After everything? After you were rejected, beaten, and then essentially rejected again? Really?"

"I'm not saying it makes sense," Horvath said coolly, "But you never knew her."

"Apparently not," agreed Mordred, "I mean, she's beautiful. That's undeniable. But, and I hate to tell you this, that ship sailed. The moment she found out you tried to kill Balthazar you lost any chance you ever had, however slender."

"I know that," snapped Horvath.

Mordred's hand went back to his scar.

"Or did you?"

He smiled a little.

"What would be worse; physical or emotional pain?" asked Mordred, "If we could destroy something she cared about herself, and let her know it, but…"

Slowly he removed his hand from his scar. It was a disturbing habit.

"Thank you for teaching me that," he murmured to himself, "And I thought it would never come in handy. You do know better, always have, always will."

He nudged Horvath again and they left the store. Meanwhile Jennifer had run off to get the sales' manager. Becky was left to look at Veronica, who was turning slowly on her heel and looking into the mirror.

"Perfect," she sighed, "Perfect."


	19. Chapter 19

Dave slid his train pass into the ticket taker. He was getting somewhat low on money, so he'd have to put some more on it soon. There was a motion being put out for NYU's students to get free passes for the subways. It would be a little late for him, since he'd already had to pay his way for two years. Still, it would be nice to know that that would be taken care of for the next, and theoretically more difficult, two years.

Sighing he looked at his watch. His classes had ended for the day. All that was left now was to go home and scrounge something up for dinner. He was the type who would eat Ramen, cooked and uncooked, three meals a day. However, he was very much aware of the danger of scurvy. So, with great difficulty and reticence, he had started to slowly but surely introduce more fruits and vegetables into his diet.

Suddenly he felt two hands cover his eyes.

"Guess who?"

Smiling he grasped the hands in front of his eyes and lowered them from his eyes.

"Becky," he said, turning around to see her.

"Got it in one," she said, letting her hands fall to the side, "It's the voice, isn't it?"

"Yeah, kind of a dead giveaway. That and the fact that no one else on the face of the planet but you would do that," he said, "But why're you here? I thought you had history."

"Nah, she called in sick and there wasn't time to get a sub," said Becky brightly, shifting her tote bag on her shoulder, "Which means two things; I don't have a test on Friday, and I'm just in time to take the train home with you."

"Sounds amazing," he said, his smile broadening, "It's two hours until Veronica's Halloween 'get-together' though. Balthazar really let the cat out of the bag."

"I suppose so," Becky admitted, "But it's not like I had any plans."

"Me neither," said Dave, "But two hours is awhile and there's this new Italian place near my apartment, Bella Note or something like that-"

"Sure," she said, "Impromptu date."

She shifted her tote bag again.

"So, made a decision on Thanksgiving?" she asked, "I know it's kinda far off, but my grandmother makes plans in advance."

"Yeah, I have. It sounds great," he said, "I got the weekend off too, both school and Balthazar-wise so yeah. Looking forward to meeting her."

He managed a smile. Dave had done a pretty brave thing when he had told Balthazar that he had no apprehensions about Becky's grandmother being like her mother. Truthfully he didn't. However, since Becky actually cared about her grandmother, that made it all the more important to make a good impression.

Becky smiled back before looking around.

"Is the subway normally this abandoned at this time of day?"

"Yeah," Dave said, "I get it right before the rush, so I guess I'm just pretty lucky."

The train arrived and the two of them got in. Like Dave had said, not many people were in the train. There wasn't anyone at all in the car besides them except a man sitting at the end of it, reading a newspaper. He didn't look up when they got in and Dave and Becky took seats on the other side of the car.

It was nice to casually meet up like this, since their schedules didn't correspond at all. He had cursed that, since whenever he had an afternoon off she had to take some sort of important class for her major. Whenever she had a free morning he had classes. It was like the university was against them somehow.

So meetings like this were rare. Now that he was finding balance in his life he could have more planned dates, but things like this were nice. Just having her sitting next to him, her arm tucked around his, felt wonderful. When she yawned and rested her shoulder on his head, well that was even better.

Her head smashing into his nose when the train stopped suddenly wasn't so good though.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed.

"No problem," Dave said, touching his nose gingerly to make sure it wasn't bleeding, "Train's not supposed to stop like that."

As it turned out it was bleeding. At least he had managed not to get any in her hair.

"No, you're right" she said, taking out a tissue from one of her pockets to staunch the flow, "it's weird."

A voice crackled over the speaker.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please remain seated. We're experiencing technical difficulties."

Dave moaned slightly.

"If we're stuck here too long then we're gonna be late and Balthazar's gonna kill me…"

"Don't worry," Becky said, still dabbing at his nose, "I'm sure it's nothing."

.

.

.

On the other side of the city Craig Townshend looked at his laptop screen. The modern equipment looked discomfortingly out of place in its surroundings. It was, after all, next to a suit of armor. Still, the whole room was one giant anachronism. Bookcases were crammed with ancient tomes and new science textbooks. Pressurized containers were propped against the wall, as well as Victorian materials for creating electricity.

The laptop wasn't exactly normal either. Technically it was an Apple Macintosh, but he'd ripped parts out that he didn't like and fused them with Microsoft magically. He thought of it as the result of a Mac and a PC's wild drunken night. Its creators would have had an aneurism if they ever found out about it, but he had removed the Apple logo and replaced it with a Merlin's Circle. He thought it was funny. However, the display on it now was anything but.

"Hey, Mr. Richards?"

He paused and waited for a reply. When none came he rolled his eyes and called even louder;

"Mr. Richards!"

"What?" snapped Justin, coming in and rubbing his head, "It can't be that important that you need me."  
"Sorry sir," he said, barely containing a curse, "I just wanted to make sure we didn't have anything going on in the subway."

"Of course we're not doing anything in the subway," he snapped, turning to go

"It's just that I'm picking something up!" called Craig desperately.

Sounding exasperated Justin turned around. He walked up and looked at the screen.

"A train's stopped," he said, "Nothing unusual about that."

"There are high readings of uncommon ions in the area," he said, "It looks like some pretty big magic was used to stop the train."

"You sure it isn't a false alarm?" asked Justin, "Your system gives us three emergencies every week. Last time it was roadkill caught in the works."

"Positive."

"Well why on Earth would a Morganian want to stop a train?" he asked, "There doesn't even seem to be anyone on it."

"I'm actually picking up two life signals. As for why they'd do this, I'm sure I don't know sir," Craig said honestly, "But that's the only explanation for it."

"The only one?" asked Justin.

"Well it might be an apprentice," admitted Craig, "Trying to catch the train."

"Them again? Stupid apprentices," he said, turning to go again.

"But an apprentice doesn't have the graft to stop a train!" Craig insisted, "And the ion readings are higher than they've ever been before!"

This time Justin didn't even stop walking. Craig couldn't help but mutter;

"Bet Kate would've checked it out."

Justin stopped walking and turned around slowly.

"Excuse me?" he said.

Feeling exasperated Craig tilted his chin a little.

"You heard me."

Justin's lip curled into a sneer.

"Well fine," he said, "If that's what our precious little Kate would do then send a few people down there. But if you're wrong, and this is just a stupid apprentice prank or a false alarm, then I'm taking your ring for a week. Have fun without it."

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

"Hardass," Craig said when he was safely out of earshot.

He keyed in a few commands. The small image on the screen expanded and a few dots appeared. So that made it Ashley, Michael, and Jack. They weren't exactly the dream team, what with Michael only just a journeyman and Ashley an apprentices. Still, it was all they had in the area and he contacted all of their phones. A quick text message let them know what was going on and to get down there. He hoped that they'd be enough for whatever it was down there. Craig also hoped it wasn't just a stupid apprentice.

.

.

.

"I think the bleeding's stopped," Becky said, still dabbing at his nose.

"It has, yeah," Dave said, "But the train hasn't started moving again."

"These things generally don't last more than an hour."

"Yeah, well-"

He was interrupted by a loud bout of harsh laughter. Irritated Dave looked over to where the other man in the compartment sat.

"Could the two of you be anymore adorable?" he asked, folding down the newspaper, "Is a sitcom theme song going to start playing any time soon?"

Dave raised an eyebrow.

"You're obviously on something," he said, shaking his head and looking back at Becky.

"Nope Prime Merlinian, Not on anything."

Every single muscle in him tensed up simultaneously. Becky gripped his arm as he rose slowly to his feet. The other man was doing the same, and it was only now that he could get a good look at him. The clothes were well-tailored; not all black but broken up only by a deep brown. He had sunglasses and several rings.

Dave quickly erected a shield around himself and Becky.

"Oh, don't be so suspicious," he drawled, "I'm just here to deliver a message. A little tedious, I know, but this is how it was done in the old days."

He smiled unpleasantly.

"The thing is, the train's stopped right now," he continued, "In two seconds it's going to start moving again. I won't be on it then, just so you know. But, after those five minutes, it's going to accelerate. It's going to keep going faster and faster until it crashes into the barrier of the next station. See if your shield protects you from that."

His form started to get a little transparent.

"This is a courtesy, and I'm not joking about this Stutler. See you if you survive."

Dave started up a plasma bolt, but by the time he got it ready he had already vanished. He blinked a little, wondering if the odd event had just happened. He looked at Becky, whose eyes were wide as if she too were wondering if it had. When the train lurched forward speedily and he stumbled forward though, he knew it had.


	20. Chapter 20

Kate walked to her car from the airport carrying the suitcase slowly. Another purse was slung over her shoulder, much bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. She had arranged this all carefully so that she wouldn't have to do baggage claim. Most people got irritated when they lost their baggage since their toothpaste and clothes went with it. The kinds of things she kept in her suitcase were, quite literally, irreplaceable.

Originally she had been planning on leaving for New York right after the meeting with George. However, she had a few things to learn about the case, namely the correct way to open it. If she didn't know that then the whole trip would've been redundant and she would've looked stupid when the time came to open it up.

So she had stayed a little longer. It wasn't an unpleasant experience. She liked England for its old world charm, and besides, she couldn't leave George on a note like that. He was an old…_**friend**_…and you didn't leave old friends on such a sour note. Besides, it wasn't like he was saying anything new or shocking.

Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a cigarette and lit up. Kate hadn't had one in hours, and it was leaving her feeling a little irritable. She looked up into the sky, where it was difficult to distinguish a star. She could remember, when she was very much younger, looking up at the sky and being able to see almost all of them.

That had been a very long time ago, and she had passed a lot of water since them. Everything had changed in ways that she didn't like, and everyone had decided to go. It was just like the stars. Taking a deep drag of the cigarette she added a little to the blanket that was preventing them from shining.

Her reminisces were cut short when her cell phone rang. Sighing she held the cigarette in the corner of her mouth and reached for it. She flipped it open and said;

"Kate Falstaff here."

"Kate!" screamed Craig on the other end, "You have to get down to the subway terminal! The ions are showing up in violet! I never programmed violet in!"

"Slow down," she said, feeling a migraine coming on, "What's vilet and where?"

She listened carefully and started to change direction.

"Who's down there now?"

"Michael and Jack and Ashley."

"Son of a bitch," she muttered, "Fine, I'll get down there as fast as I can."

.

.

.

Dave quickly started racking his brains for any spell that would stop a train moving at only God knew how many miles an hour. Balthazar hadn't taught him it, but why would he? It was ridiculous. In fact, he might've gone to his death cursing the stupidity of the situation if Becky hadn't still been clutching onto his arm.

With that happening he knew he had to think of something fast. He knew he didn't have the experience to simply stop the train without wrecking it. Still, as he thought about stopping objects remembered the day that Balthazar had taught him the vacuum spell. It was a defensive spell, but the way Balthazar had explained it put everything in it in stasis, and then left it there.

At best it was a long shot. It might've worked better if he was outside the train, but he wasn't sure how he could do it from inside. The spell worked somewhat like a net, and nets tended to favor an outside approach. When the train burst into the fresh air he decided that he was going to have to try it though.

"Hang on to something," he said, cracking his neck.

Becky complied by gripping onto the arm rests. Dave looked out the window where he could see the terminal approaching. He focused on a spot a few yards in front of the barrier. Closing his eyes he pressed his hand against the window and concentrated. In his mind he could see the particles just waiting there. Giving them a gentle nudge he rearranged them.

There was an odd feeling around him, as though he was suddenly standing in jell-o. The feeling gradually lessened, and when his eyes opened the train was gently pulling up into the station. He took a deep breath and turned to Becky, who was shakily getting to her feet and going over to him.

Her hand gently rested on his shoulder before she hugged him. Dave leaned into her touch gratefully, and not just for the contact. Doing that had taken a lot out of him. He had never done anything that big, not since Battery Park. Sensing this somehow she pulled his arm around her shoulders for support.

"Now that might've been the scariest Halloween ever," she said, smiling faintly.

"Yeah, let's not do that again," Dave answered.

The doors of the train slid jerkily open and he hobbled out. He leaned his head onto her shoulder as they got onto the platform, more out of exhaustion than other motives. When she suddenly stopped he had to move fast to avoid injuring his nose again. Vaguely annoyed he looked up to see what was so important that she had to stop for.

"Well done," the man from earlier said, clapping his hands lightly, "Well done. A vacuum spell. How completely ingenious."

Dave quickly disentangled himself from Becky and stood up straighter.

"I thought I told you that I wasn't here to kill you?" he said, shaking his head, "Kids these days don't listen."

"You're one to talk," Dave snapped, "You're barely any older than me."

The laughter stopped abruptly.

"Someone is a little angry and not watching what he's saying," he said slowly, "I have a millennium on you boy. Now, I'll just be going-"

Dave sent a plasma bolt his way. The man deflected it and turned back, looking surprised.

"Sorry, I've learned better than to just let people who tried to kill me go," said Dave, "And you tried to kill me for absolutely no reason at all-"

"Oh I've got a reason," he cut in, "You should've been trying to figure out who I am, my motives, or how I know **your **name. Has Lord Blakeson taught you nothing?"

Dave blinked.

"Who?'

The man frowned before saying;

"Slip of the tongue, slip of the tongue. Balthazar I mean, Balthazar Blake," he said, waving his hand in a sweeping motion, "I called him by his old name. How clumsy of me."

The anger was gone now. All that was left was a feeling of unease. Dave slowly started to edge in front of Becky. The man noticed and cocked his head in scrutinization. After a minute Dave could tell that he wasn't the one being looked at. Becky seemed to notice it too and stared back at him defiantly.

"Oh, your golden lady is giving me the eye," he laughed again as he reached deep into his pocket, "But I'll be gone soon. I just want to watch one more thing, insulting, stupid boy."

His hand jerked out of the pocket and he threw dirt onto the ground.

"Consurgo quod vindicatum!" he cried.

The dirt burst into a torrent of flame. Dave put a shield up around himself and Becky, and not a moment too soon. From the flames leapt a great black hound around waist-high. It crashed up against the shield and snarled at him, iron teeth dripping with drool and eyes glowing red. The man laughed again and took a few steps back.

"That's a hellhound Dave," he said, "And there's more where that came from. I'll have fun watching you try to figure out how to get rid of them."

"What the hell are you doing? Testing me!" Dave yelled, watching the creature bang up against the shield, which was cracking.

"Um, yes," frowned the man, "I don't think I'd want to be killing you until a little later."

The hellhound lunged again, but was jerked to the side when something hit it. Dave looked down at the twitching creature, which now bore an arrow in its neck before it disintegrated into ashes. All eyes turned to the direction which the arrow had come from. Standing there were two men and a girl dressed like a cheerleader with a bow and arrows.

"Well go fight win," she casually.

"Lucky shot," mumbled the man next to her who looked a little younger than Dave.

The oldest of the three, a man in his thirties, rolled his eyes. He straightened and said in a dignified manner;

"If you're both foreign sorcerers entertaining a little spat here, then I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. New York has enough problems already."

The man quirked an eyebrow.

"That speech has convinced **me **to leave," he said sarcastically, "You know, I was just irked because I wasn't planning on killing him, but you'll do fine."

The flames skyrocketed and four more hellhounds poured from it. The cheerleader knocked another arrow and the other man muttered;

"Nice going Mr. Preston."

"You word it better," he snapped.

Before they could say anything else the hellhounds galloped towards them. A flurry of spells was cast. Dave couldn't stare for long because three others came out at him. His shield shattered and he started firing plasma bolts off, knocking down one after another. From a few cries of triumph he could hear the other sorcerers were doing well too.

However, more and more hellhounds poured from the flames. He took a few steps back, making sure to keep Becky directly behind him. Dave was still exhausted from the train and he wasn't sure if he could cast any more shields. Still, he was doing fine, retreating a little and then casting spells. Soon they bumped shoulders with the other three sorcerers.

"Merlinian?" the cheerleader asked pleadingly.

"Of course he is!" snapped the younger man, "I very much doubt a Morganian sorcerer would be attacked by **hell**hounds!'

"Merlinian," Dave said quickly.

"Foreign or local?" the eldest asked, throwing fire at another hound.

"Local."

"Should've registered," he muttered before saying, rather more loudly, "Quick intros. I'm Jack Preston. That's Michael Green and Ashley Donovan. We picked up on the train."

"That was ages ago!"

"New York traffic," Michael apologized, "No spell in the universe is going to help with that. I'm guessing your girl's not a sorceress?"

"Who's stating the obvious now?" Ashley called as she sent another arrow out.

"Leave off!" Jack yelled, "We've got a ton of hellhounds to deal with here! Which brings me to the next point; Ashley, leave and take the magonisi with you."

"What?" Ashley and Becky cried simultaneously.

"You heard me," demanded Jack.

"If you say it's because I'm a girl I swear I'll kill you!" Ashley yelled.

"It's because you're a sixteen-year old apprentice!" roared Jack, "And someone needs to get the others!"

His eyes slid over to Becky.

"And I don't think you want to get killed."

She opened her mouth and Dave grabbed her arm.

"Becky please!" he begged.

She looked at him and bit her lip.

"Alright," she said.

Ashley grabbed her arm and, with a last glare at Jack, started running to the other side of the terminal. She shot a hound that was coming over towards them and dragged Becky to the other side of the tracks. Once there the hounds seemed to lose interest in them. Seeing that Becky was safe Dave's eyes slid over to where the flames leaped higher and higher with every new hellhound. He wondered if it was a door, or a fire, or maybe a bit of both.

Still, he gestured towards it and tried to remember what Veronica had said about water. It just needed a little help to appear, it was already in the air. He flexed his fingers. Water poured from the air and onto the flames. They went out in a cloud of red and black steam. Dave looked at it, feeling proud. That made two pieces of new magic he'd tried that day, and while he was tired, he also figured that it wasn't bad at all.

"Huh," said Jack, "Very…good. I didn't think hellfire could be extinguished by water-"

Whatever he was about to say was drowned out. One of the remaining twenty hellhounds had made a last attack, lunging towards Dave. He threw his hand up and felt its razor teeth bit into his bone. He screamed in pain before it was hit with a plasma bolt and let go. The damage had already been done though.

Fire surged through his veins. Dave dropped to his knees, still screaming. He went down, dissolving into convulsions. Michael continued to fight off the hellhounds while Jack knelt by him. Somewhere on the edge of his pain-addled consciousness Dave noticed that the wound was turning black and smoking, and that the man was still there, looking disappointed.


	21. Chapter 21

Becky screamed when she saw the hellhound bite into Dave's arm. She couldn't help it, it was instinctive. She didn't even know why she was screaming for a few seconds. Ashley stopped pulling her and looked back as he went into convulsions. Her mouth formed a small 'o'. She wasn't surprised enough to not stop Becky from going back over to him though.

"You'll get yourself killed!" snapped Ashley, "Hate to break it to you but magonisi don't tend to last too long in magical duels!"

She turned and sent a glare so venomous at the girl that she shut up immediately. Becky took in the panicked look on Jack's face as saw Dave's convulsions, which were getting steadily more violent. Michael was yelling something to him, setting up a shield to protect the three of them from the remaining hellhounds.

"I leave for two weeks. **Two**."

Becky turned around to see Kate coming up the stairs, smoking furiously and lugging a suitcase. She glanced briefly at Becky and said;

"Small world."

After that she directed her attention to the combatants. She took a drag of her cigarette and placed the suitcase on the ground. Reaching deep into her pocket and gesturing to the suitcase she snapped to Ashley;

"Don't let that out of your sight!"

Without another word she hurried across the tracks. Becky looked after her and Ashley said soothingly;

"Don't worry. If anyone can help him right now, it's her."

.

.

.

"Hold his arm down!"

That was the last thing Dave heard before a searing pain shot through him. It was somehow sharper than the fire, purer. It poured through him for awhile before stopping abruptly. Hesitantly Dave opened his eyes and looked down at the wound. It was still raw, throbbing, and bleeding, but at least the flesh was no longer burning.

He started up woozily and looked at the woman kneeling beside him. Dave coughed a little from the cigarette smoke as Jack started to bandage his arm. In response she put it out with her left hand. In her right hand was clutched an uncorked bottle with a small cross on it. She picked up the cork and fit it snugly back in.

"Holy water," she said, "Best thing there is for hellfire related incidents. Always carry it with me in case I run into any undead things. It's good for healing this kind of thing too. I have a friend who swears by it."

She smiled at him, showing her white teeth.

"Name's Kate unregistered kid whose girlfriend I met at the subway. And hey, look where we are now. That's what I call irony," she said before looking over and calling out, "Your boyfriend's fine!"

Dave saw out of the corner of his eye Becky waving and shouting something he couldn't quite make out. Kate got to her feet and looked to where the last of the hellhounds were clustering around the man. She walked beside Michael, made an impatient gesture, and lit another cigarette. Before taking a long drag she said;

"Guess it's the sheriff's duty to round up nutcases like you, but you'll have to make do with the deputy. 'an the deputy says your aura smells like something crawled into the garbage and died, which makes you no good their book. So I'm tellin' you to get outta Doge."

He laughed and Kate rolled her eyes.

"You have a very irritating laugh," she said.

"So I've been told," he said, looking past her at Dave, "Have fun?"

"Just let me get up," Dave said, trying, and failing to do so.

"Take it easy kid," commanded Kate, "And nutcase, I don't know who you are or where you came from. But you just summoned hellhounds so that makes me just a tad suspicious of you. Just a tad. I want you out of my city **now**."

"I really was just leaving," he assured her, "Not the city though, just the train station. By the way…the deputy? Merlinian? Hm. Did you enjoy cleaning up after my snacks?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"If you're talking about the skeletons in the sewers, then no," she said tersely.

Skeletons in the sewers? Swallowing Dave looked at the man a little strangely and with a touch more apprehension than previously. Hellhounds and skeletons. This was the Halloween stuff that he had always hoped he wouldn't get mixed up in. He should've known better before he started to get involved with the magical world.

"I wondered if anyone would find those," he said thoughtfully, "And on that note I think I'll be leaving. See you soon Dave."

He turned on his heel, straight into a blast of fire. The man was knocked back, straight into the wall of the train. He left a dent in the door and scrambled to get onto his feet. Balthazar strode into view, Veronica behind him. Fire swirled around his arms and he glared at the man, not taking into account the hellhounds that were coming towards them.

Veronica put up a shield and moved forward. She had brought one of her swords and beheaded the one nearest to her before swiftly drawing it out and killing. Balthazar burned a few of them that came towards him, not slowing his pace in the slightest. He continued his stride until he was only a few yards away from the man.

"Dave?" he called, no taking his eyes off of the man, "You alright?"

"Mostly," Dave said.

Reaching their small group Veronica knelt beside him and started unwinding the bandages. Her eyes flickered nervously over to where Balthazar and the man were.

"And Becky?"

"She's good too," Dave said nervously, casting a glance back to where Becky and Ashley stood.

"Good," Balthazar said sharply, "Good."

There was silence for a few seconds.

"This may feel a little funny," said Veronica as she ran her fingers over Dave's arm.

It did feel strange, but not as strange as watching the two men.

"Ah, hello Balthazar," the man said patronizingly.

"Mordred," growled Balthazar, "You should be dead. Seeing as you're not, I think we have a score to settle."

Dave's eyes widened. There was a fury around his master that seemed to pulse with the flames. Also, did he just hear **Mordred**? He hadn't gotten up to the Arthurian part of his Incantus yet, but he knew who that was. For confirmation he could see that the Merlinains, including Kate, had all gone a little pale.

"You know, I don't think we do," Mordred said, "I'm not even going to **try** to kill you."

Balthazar looked at him, his glare still intense but very careful.

"And why not?"

"Someone else has priority," he said, "You should be thanking me you know."

Veronica's grip on Dave's arm tightened, almost to the point of pain. Without giving Balthazar time to respond Mordred continued;

"I gave Letholdus a good, dignified death after all. It wasn't clean by any means and he did put up a valiant struggle, but it was dignified. Catherine was much easier though, barely even knew what was going on. Always had a thing for blondes. Still, like I said, dignified."

Next to him Veronica's breath caught. Dave had never heard the names Letholdus or Catherine before and he found himself wondering who they were. He cast a glance up at Balthazar, who no longer looked furious. Instead a deep, dark, terrible blankness had come over him as he stared at Mordred.

"**Albin** now, he screamed far too much-"

With a roar Balthazar threw his hands out. Mordred blocked quickly and turned. A hellhound went for Balthazar and it was met immediately with a plasma bolt. It howled and died, but Mordred didn't seem perturbed at all. He simply kept his shield up and continued walking around Balthazar. The rest of the hellhounds followed him like strange sentinels

"I don't think you understand the gravity of my being here," Mordred said, "But you can't be expected to."

He smiled faintly at him.

"Off you all go now."

The last nine hellhounds rushed forward. The Merlinians, including Veronica and instinctive motions from himself, started throwing plasma bolts at them. Balthazar used fire, looking past them and trying to get to their master. Mordred did a mock salute at him, and Balthazar swore in a language Dave didn't understand. Then, like he had done on the train, Mordred vanished.

Still swearing in the different language Balthazar struck out with his palm and destroyed the last hellhound. He was breathing heavily, closing his eyes. Veronica quickly got up and hurried over to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. Very slowly Balthazar opened his eyes and slowed his breathing fractionally.

Only then did he appear to take in the scene for its entirety. His eyes flickered from Dave and the Merlinians, Michael and Jack standing in awe of him. Kate looked remarkably at ease. He then directed his attention to where Becky and Ashley were, though they had almost returned to the group. The young girl looked like she was about to faint.

Then his eyes turned back to Kate. He frowned a little as though trying to figure something out. Dave felt himself staring at her as well, although he had absolutely no idea what it was he was supposed to be looking for. For her part Kate just continued to smoke unhelpfully, although a little angrily.

"Who are you?" he asked warily.

She didn't answer. Ashley, probably out of nervousness, blurted out;

"That's Kate Falstaff."

He looked at her with a quirked eyebrow and she turned away. Michael shook his head as Kate took a suitcase out of Ashley's hands. Becky ran up and knelt by Dave.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Fine," he nodded.

Her eyes narrowed before she kissed him on the forehead.

"Do that to me again and I'll kill you."

"Fair enough."

Balthazar rolled his eyes at the two of them.

"Both of you need to be more careful," he said, "I heard the train come in all the way from my place. Screeching like you wouldn't believe. It was deafening."

"I didn't hear anything," Dave said defensively.

"Well no," said Balthazar thoughtfully, "Did you use a vacuum spell? Feels like it."

He nodded.

"Not bad. It sucks the sound out of the area too," Balthazar said before redirecting his attention to Kate, "And Kate Falstaff is a combination of two Shakespeare characters."

"I'm going by it," she said, "No one can say I can't, especially the guy who changed his last name to Blake. I'm guessin' the kid's your apprentice, so the Prime Merlinian yes?"

Balthazar didn't say anything, but Ashley, Michael, and Jack all turned to stare at Dave. Kate nodded a little.

"Glad we got that sorted out," she said dryly, inhaling again, "And seeing how that was Mordred it looks like we've been caught up in another one of your petty squabbles that's been going on for centuries."

She blew a smoke ring. Veronica opened her mouth angrily but Balthazar held up a hand. He looked at her with great scrutinization. His eyebrows raised.

"Bianca?" he said disbelievingly.

"For ninety-four years," she said vaguely, "Looking good for my age, although you an' your gal pal are doing better. But like I said, Kate now. Call me Bianca again and I'll start calling you by your full title."

His fist clenched and she said in a softer tone;

"I don't want to go by Bianca for the same reasons you don't want to go by Blakeson."

Kate paused. She looked around her at the staring faces and sighed.

"But let's get indoors," she said, "Need to introduce you all to the sheriff, and…that's the Prime Merlinian. Kind of a big deal and this place is a little public."

Balthazar hesitated before nodding.

"Still using the Chrysler building?" asked Balthazar.

"Like we'd leave," she snorted.


	22. Chapter 22

"So um, how do you know her exactly?" Dave asked.

Balthazar glanced at him but for the most part kept his eyes on the road. They were currently following Jack's red thunderbird on the way to the Chrysler building. Kate had raised her eyebrows at the sight of it and asked how exactly he managed to afford that on a teacher's salary. He sighed and revealed that it was actually a pinto. Balthazar's laugh had then directed his attention to his car.

Kate had inhaled before saying, with a level of incredulity;

"You're **still** driving that?"

His laughter had stopped and he had gotten into the car. Veronica had slipped in beside him while Dave had gotten into the back. Dave's arm still hurt so moving around was a little difficult, but he was feeling a lot better than he had when the wound had first been inflicted. Becky had refused an offer to be dropped off at her apartment and was sitting next to him.

"Remember that Sorcerer War I was talking to you about in New York in the 1920's?"

"When was that?"

"When Becky first met her," Balthazar said, steering the car around a corner, "I don't just say these things because I like the sound of my own voice you know."

"Could've fooled me."

Balthazar glared at him and Dave hastily said;

"Yeah, I do remember."

"Well she was one of the active participants," said Balthazar, "She was fourteen, nearly fifteen when I first met her fighting on the front lines."

"That's…really young," Becky said.

"Traditionally sorcerers start training at seven years, seven months, and seven days," he said, "Dave and I got a late start. Her master had been killed in battle and John Steed, the Prime Sorcerer at the time, had taken over her education. He picked up more 'orphaned' children than it's good to think about. Did the same for her cousin."

He paused thoughtfully before continuing.

"That was a big one, the war I mean," he said, "I was in Italy at the time, but I felt an aftershock from the magic. That's why I ran up here to help out. They ended up winning and I left. Next time I ran into her, and actually got her name, Horvath had kidnapped Steed's daughter and it was a rescue mission. We got her back and Horvath ended up in the Grimhold."

Frowning he stopped talking for a minute. Dave coughed loudly before saying;

"And?"

"And she was in her twenties then, showed a good deal of potential," Balthazar shrugged, "That's it. I'm not sure what happened between now and then for her to try longevity spells. Lots can happen in a few years though."

"And what about that Mordred guy-?"

"Not now," Balthazar said through gritted teeth, "**Not. Now**. Later."

Taken aback Dave shared a glance with Becky. Veronica was murmuring things to Balthazar. He didn't know what they were exactly, and felt like it was none of his business to know. Instead he looked around as they pulled into the Chrysler building, taking in his surroundings.

Dave looked up at the towering structure. The other Merlinians were already getting out of the car, Ashley leaving her bow and arrows behind, and striding up to it like they owned it. He looked over at Balthazar and gestured to the group, hoping that it voiced his observation. Shrugging Balthazar simply said;

"Unless they've been stupid they still own it. John Steed was the major financer and architect for the project."

"We still own it," Kate said over her shoulder irritably, "Which is why it still has smoking areas."

Shaking her head she opened the door to let them in. A few people were in the lobby, and a couple looked up at the entrance of the group. Everyone then returned to what they were doing and they headed over to the elevator. Kate ordered them all inside, and Dave looked at the elevator skeptically.

"This fits eight people?"

"Maximum occupancy is actually twelve," she said.

"You've got that suitcase though-"

"I'm not waiting for you all to make another trip. Hurry up."

Reluctantly Dave got in. It was a little tight, but not too horribly. Once everyone was inside Kate pressed a floor number and they started their ascent. Every now and then Dave caught Ashley or Michael staring at him, but they quickly looked away. Smoking even though they were in cramped quarters Kate said;

"We rent one of the floors, where John used to have his office. It's more of a historical monument now, but we use other rooms there. Most of the apprentices are trained here these days. We don't have a lot of the 'at-home' types anymore. Still, it all works out pretty good for us since his wards still protect the building."

"Historical monument?" asked Balthazar, "It hasn't actually been that long you know."

"He died fifty years ago," Kate said, "That's ancient history for them."

Guiltily the other Merlinians looked away. Luckily for them the doors opened onto the floor. With some difficulty they squeezed out into a rather normal looking floor. Leading the way Kate opened another pair of doors. A man was sitting at a desk with a laptop open, a suit of armor near him.

He got up.

"I saw it all on the monitor!" he said excitedly, "That was-oh, company."

He blinked at them. Kate sighed and said;

"This is Craig, tech support, who'll go and tell Justin I have some people who need to speak to him."

With an unpleasant grin Craig dashed off to the next room.

"Ashley and Michael, go home," Kate said, "Your parents are probably wondering where you are."

"I think I'll linger for awhile," Ashley said, sitting down on a sofa, "Besides, the 'rents are out of town this weekend."

"Mine won't notice," shrugged Michael, sitting next to Ashley.

Sighing Kate rubbed her temples.

"He wants to know who's calling," announced Craig, barging back into the room.

"It wasn't up to discussion," Kate snapped, "Balthazar, Kid, Veronica, come on."

"And I'm just chopped liver?" Becky said sarcastically.

Kate looked at her with a genuine expression of apology on her face.

"Sorry 'bout this Becky," she said, "but I'm going to have a hard enough time talking to this guy without having a magonisi in the room."

Dave opened his mouth to apologize but she shook her head. She looked somewhat angry as she sat down, one of her fists clenched. Kate eyed her for a minute before flinging open the doors with the hand not holding the suitcase. Balthazar gestured for Dave to follow and they went in. There was another set of doors behind the first which Kate opened as well.

A small office-like room was revealed. There was a desk made of light wood with an armchair behind it. In it sat a middle-aged man, who was scribbling on a piece of paper. Other stacks of paper were crowded around them. He looked up when they came in and sighed a long suffering sign.

"You can't keep doing this Kate."

"Sorry Justin, bit of an emergency," she said, clearing her throat, "Justin Richards, Prime Sorcerer of New York, this is Balthazar Blake, Veronica Hunt, and the Prime Merlinian."

He put down his pen.

"I saw what happened," he said, looking at Balthazar squarely, "Or at least some of it. What's the full story?"

Balthazar looked at Dave. Clearing his throat he recounted the events of the night. Justin listened in silence. At the end he asked;

"You think it's going to happen again?"

"Mordred was a stubborn bastard during life. Death hasn't changed that," Balthazar said.

"He might be in league with Horvath as well," Veronica added.

Startled by this new piece of information Dave looked at her. Balthazar did too and she said, very quietly;

"He needs some cause to attach himself too, and Mordred is Morgana's son. I'm not sure. We know just about as much as you do, possibly less."

"But he's after all of you?" asked Justin slowly.

"Yes."

"Then I'm going to have to regretfully ask you to leave the city," he said, "Now is not a good time for this to happen. The European Guilds are in a tizzy to get back some of their artifacts from our museums, every American city wants us to 'share' the Prime Merlinian-"

He cast a dark glance at Dave.

"-who I have to say I thought would be a bit more impressive," he said, "and we have a rather unattractive force of Morganians moving into the city. Dealing with Mordred now on top of that would be cataclysmic."

Kate folded her arms.

"Justin, I don't think-"

"You just pop in here when it's convenient," snapped Justin, "Enjoy England?"

She pursed her lips, glanced over at her suitcase, but said nothing. Dave was left wondering how they'd gotten to that point in the conversation so quickly.

"So, you're saying that because you're busy we have to leave?" Veronica asked.

"Yes," answered Justin irritably, "Your grasp of the English language is amazing."

Her eyes narrowed. She was about to say something more when Balthazar spread his hands on the front of the desk. He leaned in a little, so much so that Justin had to lean back somewhat. He gazed at him for a minute before saying;

"In that case I'm going to have to regretfully ask you to **make us**."

Justin turned scarlet.

"I am the Prime Sorcerer of this region-"

"Yes, I know who you are," said Balthazar, "And in the past I've been able to count on Prime Sorcerers. But every now and then I come across idiots like you who really can't see the big picture, or have an inflated idea of who they are and no respect. Do you know who I am?"

Without giving him a chance to respond Balthazar said;

"I am Balthazar Blake, Sorcerer of the 777th degree, Merlin's second apprentice. I've sweated and bled for over a millennium to be where I am today, to make sure that there's still a world. I was on one of the first ships to the New World. And I have been actively making a home for myself here, piece by piece, since 1888. And you're not going to take that away from me."

Veronica moved so that she stood beside him. He added in slowly;

"From **us**."

Taking his hands off the table he gestured to Dave.

"How do you feel?"

"I'm not any of that," Dave said, licking his lips nervously "But this is my home. And transferring schools is a lot more work than I want. If you don't want to deal with Mordred or whatever, we will."

Balthazar nodded, a faint grin tugging at his lips. He turned to Kate who still had her arms folded, glaring at Justin.

"Nice to see you again," he said, "and perhaps there's some catching up we can do. After that we'll leave."

On that note Balthazar turned on his heel and left the office. Veronica moved with him. Dave quickly followed suit, making sure that the door closed loudly behind him.


	23. Chapter 23

_**A/N:**__ Now, once again it's time for the unpleasant material to hit the circular spinning device._

"I didn't know he was going to do that," Kate said, hurrying after them.

Ashley and Michael looked up from the sofa. They had been talking to Becky, but all of them were all looking at the group in interest. Kate seemed somewhat embarrassed, an interesting change from her we're-sort-of-friends-but-I-mostly-don't-like you mood.

"Of course not," said Balthazar, "But I wasn't kidding when I mentioned catching up."

He looked wearily over at Dave and Veronica. Veronica smiled at him softly and took a seat. She knew that her presence in his conversation in Kate wasn't necessary, or he'd have asked her. He was grateful. He knew that most of the people he was going to ask about were dead, and that would be hard enough without feeling like he had a duty to explain about them.

Her attitude towards Kate made him want to hold her though. Other women might've become suspicious by the appearance of a woman that knew 'back when'. Not her. Veronica already knew that he was hers, mind, body, and soul, had been for a very long time. There had never been anyone else, and she knew that, shown by every trusting gesture. Helplessly he felt a surge of love towards her, something that happened rather frequently.

Coughing he checked unobtrusively on Dave. The boy had had an exceedingly long night, and it wasn't over by any means. Dave was leaning against the wall due to the lack of seats at the couch. What he had said in front of Justin was something to be proud of, no doubt about it. If he could get him to say it with a little more conviction he'd be golden.

"Sure," Kate said, "Lobby?"

"Lobby," he agreed.

They walked out into the small seating area. Kate levitated a few chairs over and he sat down heavily. She sat down too, lighting a cigarette.

"So," she said, "Veronica's out and she's sitting with the Prime Merlinian in the living room. Fantastic. Ashley and Michael will be telling their grandkids about this, make no mistake. Jack will be too, but probably a lot sooner than they will."

"Ashley and Michael your apprentices?"

"No," she laughed, "No. Michael finished his apprenticeship last year, but he's a few cards short of a deck magically. I'm helping train Ashley. Her master's technically Justin but…"

"He doesn't train his apprentices," he said, a statement more than a question.

"Not as often as he should."

Silence descended.

"I was never with the New York Merlinians for very long," he said, "But…I am curious. To start with; why are you still here?"

She exhaled a ring of cigarette smoke.

"It was 1950, right?" she said, her words forced, "War's over, everyone's home, Morganians are keeping their heads down. Everything's going fine. Then Lacy has this vision."

Sighing she said;

"She couldn't remember it after it happened so she couldn't explain it. I wish she had, but I don't know how these things work. Thing is, she draws a picture of me. I'm standing in front of these Greek columns looking like hell, pissed as hell too, and ready to fight. Opponent's not in sight though. I'm in my thirties, and she wrote 'the twenty-first century' over it."

Looking miserable Kate said;

"There weren't any flux lines. So we all knew that for some reason or another I had to fight in the twenty-first century, and not as a little old lady. John fixes me up and now I'm aging at a rate of one year per twenty. Not perfect, but he wasn't Merlin. Later the position of a courier came up since everyone needed to help transport things, and I started doing that."

She looked at her cigarette for awhile.

"And that's it," she said, "And if you're wondering why Kate, well, I was always more of a Kate than a Bianca in that play. There's not a lot of people around anymore who still remember me by that name, who knew me then. I know that I've only done this a few decades and I've no right to complain to **you **of all people, but it still hurts to be called who I was, it really does."

Balthazar felt uncomfortable. He knew all too well what Kate was going through. Swallowing he said;

"About that, John?"

"Passed in his sleep, 1961. He'd retired by then. Decided he was too old to be doin' this."

He nodded, feeling unsurprised. At least the man who had fought for so long had had a chance to die peacefully.

"Why didn't you take charge?" he asked, "You were his apprentice, and you've got the degree. Did he throw his support behind someone else?"

"No, no he didn't. But by that time I was already a courier," she said uncomfortably, "And it's not really my thing, taking charge."

"Uh huh," he said, "You're bossy and seventy degrees higher than that idiot."

"Not this, just…I'm not in the mood," she said irritably, "I don't care what people say, and I really don't want to talk about it."

Balthazar wanted to add something else, but her expression said that it was best for him not to press the subject.

"So who was in charge after him?"

Kate grinned proudly.

"Robin," she said.

"Robin," he repeated.

"Well, Robin and Lacy did a joint thing," shrugged Kate, "They weren't powerful, but that wasn't what we needed. We needed people who could understand, and boy could they. It helped that Lacy was John Steed's daughter; a lot of people respected that. They did good."

She sighed.

"Lacy had their first child when she was thirty," she explained, "A boy. She named him Gregory. We were all expecting him to start training at the traditional age, we've got some twins doing just that right now…but he didn't have the gift."

Balthazar's eyes widened a little.

"I know," she said, "It's rare, but Lacy was a seer and these things happen to seers' children. There were no other children, seers have reputations for having difficulty conceiving. Gregory knew about everything, but was kept out of it. It would've been too dangerous for a magonisi, even with a whole group of Merlinians around him, to get involved."

She shook her head.

"I can say the same about that Becky girl you know," she said reproachfully.

"She's in love," Balthazar said, drumming his fingers against the armrest of his chair, "She won't leave him, even if he really asked her to."

"Yeah, and it might get her killed."

"Now this is something that **I'm **not in the mood for."

"Fine," Kate said, rolling her eyes, "Eventually Gregory went off to study business and made a killing in computer software. I only met him a few times, but he seemed a good boy."

Leaning back she took a deep drag of her cigarette. Her eyes closed and there they remained as she said;

"Robin had heart failure when he was sixty-eight. Again, it's not what anyone wanted but at least it was peaceful. At home, reading with Lacy."

"I'm sorry," Balthazar said.

He had been under the impression that Kate had had a hand in raising Robin. Robin's parents had been one of the many victims claimed by magical wars in New York and he'd been sent to live with his aunt. That aunt had been Kate's mother and the two had grown up as something of a brother and sister.

"Gregory died in a car crash about two years later. Drunk driver. Then his wife went completely nutso, stupid little thing."

Balthazar furrowed his brow. This story was sounding familiar.

"So Lacy went over there and got custody of her granddaughter," said Kate, "Not legally, but she got her out of there. Good going on her part. I don't think that the girl has any magical talent, but this daughter-in-law sounds awful. I've never even met her, but ugh."

"Wait," he said slowly, "Lacy has a granddaughter?"

Kate inhaled and looked at him, surprised.

"Yeah, she's…twenty?" surmised Kate, "I've never really met her either. Don't even know her name. But it's nice to know there's some of Robin's blood, Barnes blood out there."

Balthazar moaned and rested his head in his hands. He remembered that day that Lacy had walked into the shop, her timid questions about the connections of Vivienne and herself, and of Nimue. Nimue, Nimue indeed. He had never met the woman; she'd been dead long before he had been born. However, it did seem that life had a circular flow to it sometimes.

"Hey, what's up?" asked Kate, frowning.

He looked up at her. He could tell her, he could. However, he didn't feel comfortable with this knowledge. Balthazar trusted Kate, somewhat. They were barely deeper than passing acquaintances, and he felt that this information needed protection. The Prime Merlinian had enemies out there after all, and he wasn't even sure if he was going to tell **him **about everything.

"Nothing, I'm just feeling a little stupid," he said, "And I think Lacy deserves a visit from me sometime soon. Either that or I'm going to **need **to visit her."

"She lives at Wisteria Gable, couple miles outside the city," Kate said, "Don't go it too often. She's getting out of that life. She's…old…and these visions take a lot out of her. Lacy's not thirteen anymore."

Sighing Kate looked at her cigarette miserably.

"Time passes."

Nodding Balthazar got up slowly.

"I'll keep in touch," he said, "If you need us, we'll come."

"Balthazar," Kate said, rising with him, "There's something I need to give your apprentice. But…"

Her eyes flickered to where Justin's office was.

"…not here."

"He wouldn't approve?" asked Balthazar, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't think so," she said, "His thinking isn't what you call flexible, doesn't understand certain things. Now you've been training Dave, and he did defeat Morgana. But he doesn't look…ah, you know. Anyway, is there a place that I can meet you?"

Balthazar hesitated. Finally he took a scrap of paper and a pen from the depths of his coat. He scrawled out the address of the Arcana Cabana on it.

"Day after tomorrow," he said, giving it to her, "Get rid of it when you're done with it and don't come back unless it's an extreme emergency. I want some privacy in my life."

Kate nodded understandingly.

"But in return for that address," he said, "I want you to think about this; when the deputy understands more than the sheriff then things start to fall apart."

He turned on his heel and strode back into the reception room. Everyone looked up immediately at his entrance, some with more curiosity than others. Justin was in the room as well, glaring at them, and redirecting it to Balthazar when he came in. Ignoring him Balthazar said brusquely;

"We're going."


	24. Chapter 24

It was a silent party that got back into the car. Dave offered to drive since Balthazar was looking as though he was a tired man who'd been told something unpleasant. He waved away Dave's offer and got into the driver's seat. For his part Dave resumed his old seat in the back with Becky next to him.

For a while they drove in that uncomfortable silence. They pulled into the Arcana Cabana, parking the car outside of it. Balthazar unlocked the door and went in. He gestured to them and they went up the stairs into the living area. The living room had been extensively decorated for Halloween, and a large bowl of candy was on the table. Veronica gestured to the sofa, which Becky and Dave took a seat on.

Tiredly Balthazar threw his coat on a hanger and slumped down onto a loveseat, almost laying down with his legs spilling over the armrest. He looked down and started twisting one of his rings. Dave noticed that it wasn't the one that glowed when he did magic. It was a different ring, one made entirely of metal. From where Dave was sitting he couldn't see it too well, but he thought it was a signet ring. Finally Balthazar sighed and said;

"Dave, I believe you wanted to know who tried to kill you tonight."

"It would be helpful."

Balthazar glanced at him before turning his eyes back to the ring.

"Mordred is the son of Arthur Pendragon and Morgan Le Faye, conceived in a mistake," he said bitterly, "We…as Merlin's Apprentices we had frequent dealings with him. Even from a young age he showed signs…"

He stopped and shook his head. As though knowing something that Dave didn't, which she probably did, Veronica picked up the tale.

"He was known for starting fights, violent outbursts, that sort of thing. When he was eighteen he came over to Merlin's Keep to…oh…his mother had sent a message and he wanted to check up on it, something to that affect," she said, "I was sixteen then…and a little over seven years before this my family had been murdered. To save my life some distant relatives of mine hid me in their cellar. I stayed there for a year before Merlin came."

She paused a little. Dave blinked and Becky took in a slow breath. Balthazar looked at Veronica in shock. She returned his stare levelly and said;

"There are things that they need to know now that he's after them. I don't think we can afford to keep such secrets anymore."

Veronica took in a deep breath before saying;

"Well he got impatient with me, and I admit that I was being difficult on purpose. I didn't like him and he was being rather rude that day. I should've known better I suppose, but I was sixteen and in no mood for such disrespect."

She smiled wryly and shrugged.

"But I didn't and he got angry and shoved me from behind and locked me in a closet. I didn't know I was…there wasn't a name for it then…I suppose you would call it claus-tra-fo-bic now. I had a panic attack and started screaming. He stood and listened until Balthazar heard me and came."

She sat down slowly in an armchair.

"After that I gave him a scar on his face when I slapped him, from my ring," she said, "But he listened when I had my attack, didn't get shocked, didn't run away, just stood and listened. The fact of the matter was that he liked hearing me scream. After that Merlin never took his eye off of him, not for long. Not that it helped."

Her hand reached for Balthazar's. He was gritting his teeth now, although Dave didn't know why.

"A few years later he exposed Queen Guinevere and Sir Lancelot's affair," she said, "In order to destroy the kingdom, rip it apart. It nearly worked. He also set fire to the building that she had been in before removing her. Horvath and Balthazar went in to put it out since it was a magical fire and spreading fast."

Veronica paused again, as though waiting for something, some sort of cue. Balthazar clenched his eyes shut and said;

"Before this, even before he attacked Veronica…Mordred…and my older brother Letholdus…competed for the same woman," he said.

Dave blinked at him. He had only ever heard one reference to Letholdus before, and not by name.

"Her name was Lady Catherine, third cousin to King Arthur and a rich heiress," he continued painfully, "Mordred was the favored candidate for a long time. But Catherine fell in love with Letholdus and begged her father to let her marry him. He agreed. After that they had a son…Albin. At the time Mordred did his first play for power my nephew was a little under two years old."

Veronica's grip on his hand tightened. Remembering the conversation between Mordred and Balthazar at the subway Dave felt the color drain out of his face. He stared at Balthazar in shock and abject sympathy, already half-knowing what was going to say next. From the way Becky tensed beside him he had the feeling that she knew as well.

"He'd killed them all and shoved their bodies into the burning rooms," Balthazar said, "Just to get rid of them, to dispose of the evidence. I never knew if he had something in mind for what he did, or he just decided to do it. I never knew."

"I…I'm sorry," Dave murmured.

Balthazar waved his hand vaguely. Swallowing he said;

"I need the two of you to listen to this, listen and understand well. Mordred is a twisted, sociopathic human being. He knows the difference between right and wrong, he just doesn't care. His mother raised him with a sense of entitlement, taught him to view everyone as beneath him. He's more powerful than I remember, and that's not good. It's especially bad because he delights in the discomfort of other human beings. If he wants to kill you Dave, then he'll do it. But he'll play cat and mouse first, because that's what he does."

He sighed and rubbed his temples with his spare hand.

"If he didn't already know about Becky, and he knows now," Balthazar said, "then I'd advise staying away from her. But it's too late for that. As it is there are already good protection spells on you, so I think we've done all we can in this instance. What Veronica said about him being in league with Horvath is very likely true; otherwise he wouldn't have known your name. I don't know what his plan is, but we're going to have to consolidate ourselves. Your training resumes tomorrow Dave."

Taking that as his cue to leave Dave nodded and stood up. Very gently Veronica pushed the bowl of candy towards him. Inside were king-size Milky Way bars.

"Take a few," she said, "I never really enjoyed nougat."

Dave gave a shaky smile and took three. Becky stood up with him.

"You can have some too."

Becky smiled and shook her head.

"I'm allergic to chocolate."

Veronica smiled back, but it was strained. Becky took Dave's arm as he pulled out a cell phone.

"We'll take a taxi back," he said, "I think I've had my fill of subways for tonight."

Nothing further was said, Veronica only acknowledging his words with a nod. She got up and followed after them, wishing them a happy Halloween. When the cab came they left and she quietly locked the door to the shop. After that she turned and hurried up the stairs and back into the living room.

Very calmly she took in her fiancé. His eyes were closed. However, the hand that had the signet ring on it was clenched tightly. She slowly crossed the living room. She maneuvered around Balthazar's body, settling onto the loveseat. Veronica leaned herself in, her head resting on his chest and resting her hand next to her head. Without opening his eyes he wrapped his arms around her.

"I didn't want to force you to tell them," she murmured.

"You didn't," he said, "Dave needs to understand. And…it's just been so long since I let myself think about it. I try to think about when they were alive, rather than the manner of their deaths."

He sighed.

"I had hoped we would have peace for a little longer."

"Life goes on," she shrugged, "Life, death, marriage, births, it all happens no matter what's going on in the background."

Balthazar kissed the top of her head.

"If Horvath's involved though…he knows what Mordred is," Balthazar said, "He knows."

There were deeper, different meanings to what he was saying. Veronica pushed her head into his chest harder.

"He was with me when I saw Letholdus, and Catherine, and Albin, he saw their bodies," he said, "He knows what Mordred is."

She waited. They had never spoken of Horvath's betrayal between them. When they had rode for the Keep there was no time for them to speak about it. After she had come back it had seemed like a bad memory from long ago. There had never been any reason to speak of the betrayal of a man they had both considered family.

"I don't regret anything," Veronica said, reflecting for a minute, "Do you?"

Balthazar looked at her.

"I…I keep thinking…if he'd trusted me enough to tell me how he felt about you in the first place then we would've been able to talk about it," Balthazar said.

He leaned his head back on the armrest of the loveseat.

"And there was this one time, right after he got back after…you know," he said uncomfortably, "And this was the only time we ever talked about it, never again, never. And he asked me if I loved you."

She felt his grip around her tighten.

"I told him I did," he said, "And then he said…I suppose it's not important. But I just feel that if I could've talked to him about it then, really explained how I felt, not let that conversation go, then maybe I could've stopped things. Or perhaps I could've at least lessened his resentment. But…we never spoke of it again."

Veronica looked up at his face.

"Morgause told me that there was no good way to handle that situation."

Shrugging Balthazar replied;

"Perhaps not. But still…you should never have had to choose between us."

Pushing against his chest Veronica drew herself up. She did this so she could look him in the eye, make him understand. Very slowly and deliberately she told him;

"I never chose between the two of you. I fell in love with you so gradually it was hard to tell when I actually did. But I knew how I felt by the time I was nineteen, two years before Horvath declared himself. I wanted you, looked for ways to encourage you, kept all those little tokens of love with me. I was wearing that necklace you left at my seat in the library when Horvath came to talk to me. It was one of my most cherished possessions."

Her hand went up to the necklace that she wore always.  
"This is my most cherished possession now," she said, her hand abandoning the necklace to stroke his face, "You knew I wanted it, and you carried it with you for all those years. Balthazar, I regret what happened with Horvath as much as you do. But I don't regret falling in love with you."

She let her head down and kissed him. His left hand threaded through her hair, the other still resting in the small of her back. Veronica pulled away momentarily only to kiss him again. Finally she pulled away for the last time, giving him a gentle kiss on his forehead. Then she returned her head to where it rested on the hollow of his chest.

"Let's get to bed," she said softly, "I think I've had enough of this holiday."


	25. Chapter 25

_**A/N: **__My Second Hundred reviews! Thank you all so incredibly much!_

Becky sighed and picked up her hairbrush. After the events of the night she just wanted to get to sleep somewhere safe and warm and familiar. That was why, after Dave had dropped her off at her apartment, she had taken a cold shower and gotten into her pajamas. The shower was mostly to convince her that she was still awake and that everything had happened, and everything was still going on.

Despite the assurances that what had happened with Morgana was worse, Becky didn't feel comforted. She knew that she had been, in many ways, spoiled. She had come in at the very end of the conflict with Morgana and had played a very small role. Besides the period of gut-wrenching fear when Horvath had kidnapped her, she had never been directly in danger. Becky hadn't even known that Dave was in danger for long enough to really start to worry.

She started brushing her hair. Things were different now and much scarier. There was a mysteriously alive-again evil sorcerer stalking her boyfriend. So she was scared, scared for herself, for her new friend Veronica, and scared for Balthazar though she had been given the impression he could take care of himself. Veronica probably could as well when it came down to it. She had seen the way that she had handled the sword earlier. Becky was, however, very afraid for Dave no matter whose descendent he was. Mordred was concentrated on killing him after all.

Putting her hairbrush down she stared at her reflection in the mirror. There had been absolutely nothing she could do that night except scream and be used as a crutch. She felt weak, weak, weak. Becky had never been in a position where she would need to protect someone. Oh, there had been the friends where she'd helped tell off bullies, that sort of thing. She had been strong before, like when her grandmother's dog Alix had died in her sleep.

No one had been in danger though, not really, not even Alix who had been very old when she had passed. Becky couldn't protect anyone from magic though. She couldn't be strong and indomitable against supernatural pain or death. She couldn't even help anyone around her, not even herself. She was the weak link in the chain. She, out of all of them, didn't belong there.

Turning away from the mirror she went into the bedroom. Breathing out she pulled back her comforter and got in. Before a few months ago the worst thing in her life was the possibility that her mother would show up. Now things were very different. She was no longer as confident as she was, she felt like she was very young again, up against a world of strangeness.

Swallowing hard she turned off the light, wishing for sleep to come and obliterate her thought process. It was nearing one in the morning, much later than she normally went to bed, and no one else was up. At least in the morning she would be able to tell a garbled version of the story to her grandmother perhaps, get her fears out.

After around an hour she finally got to sleep. She dreamed she was walking in a castle somewhere, lavish in its interior but built like the fortress it was. Everyone inside swirled around her. Knights walked boldly, servants hurried to their destinations, and fair ladies stepped lightly with their noses in the air disapprovingly. No one paid any mind to her, which wasn't how her dreams usually went.

Frowning she looked down at how she was dressed. Instead of blending in with everyone around her she was wearing the same blue flannel pajamas that she had gone to bed in. That was exceedingly odd for her dreams. She looked around her doubtfully, wondering just what had caused this one. Generally her subconscious had a root cause, but she couldn't find one. It wasn't like she had been watching any period dramas or anything.

Then again, she also knew that this was a dream. Mostly, in her experience, she had woken up shortly after she discovered that she was dreaming. Becky had gone into this dream knowing that she was dreaming though. Of course, the day had already been very unusual, so this probably didn't mean anything at all.

Her eyes slid over to the opposite wall. Two guards stood in front of a heavily locked door. Since there was nothing else to do Becky walked over to open it. Tentatively she put her hand to the door, and it went through it. This was no less shocking than anything else that had happened, so she didn't really mind. Since the guards didn't seem to be paying any attention to her she went through the door entirely.

The room was decorated sumptuously. Gold hangings with red dragons on them adorned the walls as well as several tapestries. Most of the furniture looked fine as well, and a large fire crackled away in the hearth. Near the fire there was a small cot. The sheets looked coarse and a roughly carved chest had been shoved underneath it. The small bed and chest contrasted with the rich surroundings, sticking out like a sore thumb.

Looking at the other side of the room she saw what looked like a cradle, only it was slightly bigger. There was a large overhang, again with the red and gold motif. Snuggled under velvet sheets was a young boy with golden hair. He appeared to be fast asleep, and the small light that came in through the window was fading quickly into darkness. A bandage was wound around his head, looking as though it had been freshly changed.

A young woman was sitting next to the bed, mending something. She was Becky's age, perhaps a little older. Becky walked closer. Although the woman was young she had pure white hair that spilled down her back and across her shoulders. She was also sewing blindfolded. Every now and then she would pause and run her fingers over the stitches. Her lips moved in silent calculation and she would go back and remove a stitch or add another one.

Again, she contrasted against her surroundings. Her hair was down with no adornment, and she wore no necklace. The dress she was wearing appeared to be made from the same course material that the sheets were made of. The only thing that looked like it was of any value was a small ring on one of her fingers, a simple metal band.

Becky looked at it, expecting to see a stone in it. She had been thinking about magic when she went to bed after all. Instead she saw that it was just a plain metal band. There was a gold tint to it, although it couldn't possibly be gold. She started to wonder if it was perhaps a wedding ring of some sort.

Suddenly the door opened. The woman, despite her blindfold, looked up. A man who appeared to be about forty came in and shut the door quietly behind him. He looked around. Becky saw the woman's hand reach out blindly for a minute, as though sensing something. Her mouth opened a little and she hurriedly got up, flinging her mending aside. She ran straight into the man's arms, and he caught her in a passionate embrace, kissing her deeply.

Becky felt suddenly embarrassed to be dreaming like this. She looked away. The moment between these two seemed intimate, stolen, and very private. Being a spectator to this didn't seem right at all. Then again, it was her dream that she was feeling embarrassed about watching. She wondered if maybe it meant she was having some sort of internal problem, besides the obvious.

The woman pulled away from him.

"But how?" she asked, "I…I know you're not allowed…and those guards-"

"A quick displacement," he said, "It won't last for long my love. But it's all I can do. I'm not exactly kept in the best shape."

He gave a strained, wry grin. Now that he mentioned it Becky saw that he looked thin and pale. There were dark circles under his eyes and he seemed tired. The woman's fingers quested over his face, feeling his cheekbones and chin. Apparently she noticed sightlessly what Becky could see.

"I thought something was wrong, it felt off when you came in," she said quietly, "I…but…it feels so good to be near you again."

"Yes my love," he murmured, bringing her closer, "I'm sorry that I can't steal us some more time."

The boy stirred in his bed. The man looked over the top of the woman's head and looked at him searchingly.

"Will he wake?"

"No, he sleeps deeply," she said, smiling, "Not much trouble at all."

She paused.

"He's a sweet child," she said softly.

"And his father is evil incarnate," sneered the man, looking over at the child angrily, "Do you know that he killed an adviser in the hall today for sneezing at the wrong time?"

"Don't-" she started.

"Love, he was begotten of a forced marriage, out of wedlock. Can anything good come out of that?"

"The sins of the father are not his sins," she said firmly, "He is scared of his father. Whenever he visits he tries to leave the room. And the other day he came in here in one of his rages and smote him on the head. There's only a cut there now, no lasting damage, but it had to be bandaged."

The man looked doubtfully over at the sleeping child.

"I trust you," he said, "I trust you."

Once more his glance looked over the child. It returned to the woman's face with an almost pleading expression.

"Are you sure though?" he said.

"Positive," she said, "He is good. You know this. You've seen him."

"I had hoped," he said, "But I had great hopes for his father too. It's made me much more cautious about those whom I place my faith in."

She nodded slowly and leaned her head onto his chest. He rested his chin on her head for a moment, closing his eyes.

"Then we'll go ahead with the plan?" she murmured.

"Yes," he said, "Yes. Then we'll finally be free."

A loud noise at the door made them both look up sharply. Keys were jangled and the man reluctantly tore himself away from the woman. He headed towards the window and she hurried back to her seat by the bed, picking up her mending. Before leaping out he cast one last longing look at her. Her hand reached out slightly in a gesture of farewell, and the keys scraped in the lock. The man went out the window.

Slightly alarmed Becky hurried over to the ledge and looked down. The man had a glowing ring and was sliding down the walls, nowhere near as fast as he should. Becky looked curiously after him for a moment before redirecting her attention to the opening door. A guard peered his head in and barked;

"You there!"

The woman looked up at the same time that the boy awoke. He looked up blearily and then with some alarm at the guard. Gently the woman reached a hand out and touched the boy's shoulder, urging him back to sleep. She turned her head to the guard and Becky had the feeling that, if she hadn't been blindfolded, she would be glaring.

"You've woken up the prince, I hope you're pleased," she said coldly.

"None of that," he snapped, "Have you seen the Sorcerer?"

"I haven't seen anyone since I was four," she said irritably.

The guard rolled his eyes.

"Fine, have you met anyone?

"I've been in here all afternoon."

She pointed her thumb angrily at the two guards who had peeked in after the third.

"You can ask them."

Snorting the man slammed the door shut. The bolts were drawn again and the woman leaned forward in her chair, resting her head in her hands as though exhausted or depressed, or possibly both. She looked up suddenly, as though confused. Slowly she got up, letting her mending fall onto the ground. Her hand was extended, as though searching for something.

Finally she came to a halt a few feet away from Becky. She turned her head towards her, her lips moving but no words coming out. Her hand fell down and she said;

"How…but…who are you?"

Becky awoke and looked over at the clock. It was only around five in the morning. She felt like she hadn't slept at all though, hadn't been refreshed in the least by those hours. Moaning she let herself fall back onto her pillow, tossing and turning. After a little while she finally managed to fall into a dreamless sleep.


	26. Chapter 26

Dave jogged through the street, dodging traffic. The Halloween events on the subway had shaken him a little, which accounted for him forgetting to put money on his card. So he hadn't been able to get the train he wanted, and had had to settle for the later one. As soon as he got out of the train stop, it had started raining.

He looked up at the sky. He really couldn't remember it raining this much in a long time. Falls in New York generally weren't this wet, and the rain had made the traffic even worse than usual. This was the reason why he was arriving at the Arcana Cabana at 2:50 p.m. when Balthazar had specifically asked him to be there at 2:20.

Panting he shoved open the door. Veronica was standing in the living room, deep in conversation with Balthazar. Her elbows were resting on a case and she was pointing to an open catalogue. For his part Balthazar was shrugging a little, leaning up against a case opposite hers. On it the full-sized Incantus lay, with the case groaning under the weight of it and Balthazar combined. Dave just managed to catch the words;

"-and then we check the graveyard. I know it's not very likely but that's the last place I can think of."

Veronica was about to answer but he looked up and saw Dave. She pushed away the catalogue with a smile that looked somewhat tense. Balthazar's reaction was different. His eyes narrowed and he said tersely;

"Thirty minutes and eighteen seconds late Dave."

"You keep track of the seconds?" exclaimed Dave, removing his sopping coat and putting it on the coat rack.

He noticed the water that he was tracking in and found himself wishing that the subway station was a little closer to the Arcana Cabana. Balthazar's eyes followed each and every drip of the water and Dave had a nasty feeling he would be cleaning it up soon with a mop. Oh how he hated mops.

"The jiffies as well," Balthazar said, "But I felt no need to mention those. There was a reason why I wanted you on time you know."

"Which was?" asked Dave nervously.

Balthazar gestured to the catalogue.

"Veronica thinks we should get yellow sugar roses on the cake. I'd prefer red since it would go with the gold ball-bearings better and I'd also prefer them to be made out of frosting. What do you think?"

Dave blinked, wondering if he was on candid camera.

"Is…is that really why you called me?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course not," Balthazar snapped, "But when I tell you to be somewhere at a certain time I'm not just doing it for the fun of it."

"He was worried about you," said Veronica, dog-earing a page in the catalogue before closing it, "Another two minutes and we would've been out looking for you."

"Oh," Dave said, feeling guilty, "Oh."

Balthazar gave her a look and rolled his eyes.

"With Mordred out there along with Horvath we have to be extra careful," he said, "We can't afford to start taking stupid chances. We know what Mordred wants; domination. Why the hell he hasn't started to do anything is beyond me and I have a feeling he's taking his time for a reason, probably getting the lay of the land."

"He was a great strategist when we last fought him," Veronica said, "And he'll have something up his sleeve. But his plans usually have weaknesses, subtle but still there. Even his resurrection should have a catch to it."

"So we're certain he was actually dead?" asked Dave, still feeling guilty and stupid as well now, "Not trapped or something and then released?"

"Good thing I brought the Incantus," snorted Balthazar, flipping open the heavy book and rifling through its pages, "Look here."

Dave walked over, his sneakers squeaking due to their wetness and the polished floor. Balthazar winced at the noise, as though each squeak was a personal affront. Dave knew that it was a telltale sign that he wasn't wearing his old man shoes. Fearful of some sort of reprisal he went over as quickly as possible. Finally he made it to the case and looked at the page.

It portrayed two men fighting on a muddy field. Dead bodies littered the battle ground, their blood added in with extreme care. One of the men was on his knees, raising his sword in a last desperate plunge. His helmet was off, and his graying hair still showed signs of gold. Mordred stood in front of him, bringing his own sword back.

"Read," grunted Balthazar.

Dave's eyes slid over to the text.

_The battle on the field of Camerann was furious and long, destroying many. On that battlefield Mordred's slayed King Lot and his sons, Gawain, Agravaine, and Gaheris. On that day much of the house of Orkney fell. When at last Mordred and Arthur fought their battle was swift and terrible._

_ Hampered by an injury that he had sustained earlier in the fight Arthur was defeated by his son. With the last of his strength Arthur lashed out and wounded Mordred with Excalibur. Mordred fled off the battlefield, leaving Arthur to die. Mordred himself would later perish of the wounds inflicted by Excalibur, wounds that because of his evil, the magic in the sword would never allow to fully heal. _

Finishing Dave tentatively turned the page.

_However, the last of the brothers of Orkney and the heir to the throne of England, Gareth, had been left at Camelot under the protection of Balthazar and Veronica. On Morgana's orders the evil sorcerer Taurus battled them, freed from the prison Merlin had put him in twelve years previous. He came with the sole intention to kill the last alternate heir and Merlin's apprentices. This same sorcerer was believed to be responsible for the death of the Hunt family in the north and of Morgana's first attempts to wrest Arthur's kingdom from him._

_Although stronger than the two of them, Taurus was defeated by the combined skill of Merlin's apprentices. In the end the fatal blow to Taurus was given by Veronica's hand in protection of both Prince Gareth and Balthazar. Camelot was made safe for the return of Merlin and Horvath from the battlefield. _

There was an illustration on this one too, with about the same amount of red, just more concentrated. In this illustration though, he recognized two of the figures. Of course, Balthazar was a figure off in the distance while Veronica stood blood splattered by a headless corpse. He remembered the sword training he'd had with her and winced. Fully taking this in he looked up at his Master.

"You were guarding Gareth?"

"That's what you take away from that?" asked Balthazar, "Look, the Incantus doesn't lie. It conceals, but it doesn't lie. If it said that Mordred died, then he died. His soul might not have left the area, but his body was definitely dead. Seeing as he has his body back now, he was somehow resurrected in part."

"…undead then?"

"I suppose you could call it that. It also means he can only be killed by the same means as the first time, but I'm not sure how we can have him bleed to death again or get gangrene or whatever. I'm not even sure if he has blood anymore."

"So…" Dave said slowly, "He's a zombie now."

Balthazar looked into the sky as Veronica laughed behind her hand.

"Lord preserve us," he said.

"What?" asked Dave defensively, "He's undead right? And it sounds like he was eating people. I.e. zombie."

"Astute observation. But don't call him a zombie."

"Why not?"

"Because it's childish and frankly makes it sound like we're in a B horror movie," Balthazar said.

The bell above the door jingled. Dave turned around to see Kate calmly folding up an umbrella. Her stilettos clicked silently on the floor, moving around the puddles caused by his coat. Behind her lumbered Michael, panting and carrying a rather large suitcase. He was just as soaked as Dave and the two of them shared a pitying look with each other.

"Kate," Balthazar said.

"Balthazar," she said, "Three o'clock exactly."

"Punctual," he remarked, glaring at Dave.

The suitcase was set down on the floor with a loud thump.

"I'm not an apprentice anymore," said Michael, "Leave the dirty work for Ashley."

"She's in school," Kate said sharply, "And did I say you could set it down? No. Put it on one of the cases."

Rolling his eyes Michael heaved the suitcase onto one of the glass cases. He breathed out tiredly and slumped onto the glass case next to Dave. Kate walked over to the suitcase and started to undo the latches, one at a time.

"What do you have in there anyway?" he asked, "Bricks?"

She opened it to reveal a stone case.

"Close enough," shrugged Michael.

Pulling out a cigarette Kate lit it. Some of the ash dropped onto the top of the glass case and Balthazar cleared his throat very loudly. It was a throat clear that Dave had gotten used to when he had just done a spell horribly wrong. Kate looked back at him and then at the ash. Rolling her eyes she waved a hand over it, her ring glowing and the refuse disappearing.

"Sorry, it's been a long time since I used an ash tray. But before I continue," she said, drumming her fingers on the glass, "I'm going to require the sworn secrecy of everyone in this room. The case was entrusted to me by the Grand High Sorcerer of England, a trust I'd rather not betray. And quite honestly this is none of Justin's business."

"Is a Grand High Sorcerer higher than a Prime?" asked Dave.

Kate eyed him.

"Not in your case, no," she said, "But it means he supervises all of the Primes of the United Kingdom. They just call it England because that's what it used to be. But come on, secrecy people."

One by one they all agreed to it, Michael a little reluctantly. In the end he did though and Kate waved her hand over the case, muttering;

"In nomen de salus de Britain ego vos ut patefacio."

Small parts of the case slid forward. The outside of the box started to rearrange itself slowly, putting Dave in mind of a Rubic's Cube. A box from somewhere inside of it jutted upwards and did the same thing before opening at the top. Although the area was very small indeed the darkness inside it was complete and total.

"Alright then," Kate said calmly, turning to Dave, "Now reach in there."

"Um, nothing's going to happen, is it?"

She shrugged and inhaled.

"Kate," Balthazar said threateningly.

"Nothing painful or bad should happen," she said, "What's in there is meant for you. George told me it would respond."

"George?" asked Veronica.

For a minute Kate looked a little uncomfortable.

"I mean the Grand High Sorcerer. Now come on, I haven't gotten all day," she said, sounding a little perturbed.

Dave looked cautiously at the unfathomable darkness. He started to reach with his left hand, then switched. If anything bad was going to happen, then he might as well be using his ring hand. He placed his hand inside the box and waited for a minute. Dave turned to ask if this was what was supposed to happen when he felt himself jerk forwards.


	27. Chapter 27

Dave nearly fell into the box, managing to keep his balance only because the case and the rough rubber of his shoes allowed him to. As it was his hand was swallowed up to his shoulder. Balthazar and Veronica started forwards, only to be stopped by Kate. She looked over at Dave with interest, taking a long drag of her cigarette. He stared back at her while, moving his now trapped arm a bit.

"Um, is this supposed to happen?" he asked, "I can't really move my arm here, can't get it out anyway."

Kat shrugged and said;

"I've never seen this happen before. Never opened it before actually."

"That makes me feel so much better."

"It's not supposed to," she said, then added with the air of one making a scientific inquiry, "Do you feel anything?"

"What?"

"In the chest. Do you feel anything in the chest?"

Still wondering if the box was going to go Indiana Jones on him in a minute he felt around tentatively with his fingers. His wandering hand brushed up against something metal. He ran his fingers the length of it, wondering if it was some sort of stick or wand. A little surprised he nodded his head. Kate smoked a little faster at that gesture, obviously excited. Removing her cigarette she breathed in deeply.

"Now," she said, "Grab it and pull it out."

He curled his fingers around the long object, and did as he was told. The suction that had pulled him in stopped abruptly and his hand started to slide out easily as if he'd never been held in the first place. When his hand came out of the box he thought he'd been right to assume that it was some sort of metal stick. Instead a hilt emerged, as did a long, blade encased in a leather and silk sheath.

Veronica tilted her head.

"Balthazar," she said, "Doesn't that look like-?"

"Take it out of the sheath Dave," Balthazar said, "Be extremely careful, but take it out of the sheath."

Shrugging Dave did as he was told. With a sliding sound and the greatest of ease the sword came free. Dave wasn't by any means an expert on swords. This however, he could tell just by looking at it that it was a work of art. There were no jewels in the hilt, no fancy scrolls, just the simple feeling that this was the perfect sword. If you wanted the destroy or kill something, this was the best you could get.

He moved it around in his hand a little, and a strange noise hummed in his ears. It was almost as if the blade was so sharp that it was cutting the very air in half. As he moved it around something caught in the light, distorting the reflection on the blade a little. He frowned and tilted it upwards. Written in thin, delicate script on the blade were the words; futurus adsuesco assuesco per a bonus vir parumper bonus causa. Dave sighed. He really needed to start taking Latin classes or something.

He turned to the others. Kate was looking satisfied, Michael fairly impressed but still rather confused. Balthazar and Veronica stared at him as if he'd pulled a rabbit out of the box instead of the sword. He smiled a little sheepishly, not quite sure he liked that look. Timidly he went to set the sword down on the closest display case, accidentally setting it down with the side of the blade first.

"No!" Balthazar started, "Don't-"

It was too late. The blade of the sword went through the glass display case like a hot knife through butter, splitting it in half. Everything inside it crashed to the floor, including the suitcase. Most of the things bounced, but more broke. The suitcase crushed a few of the items the stone case clattered loudly to the floor. Dave jumped back and winced, feeling clumsy and stupid.

"I'm sorry!" he said.

Balthazar rolled his eyes and waved his hands. The items returned to their places, the broken ones mending themselves.

"You certainly know how to ruin a moment Dave," Balthazar said, "Put it back in the sheath."

Embarrassed Dave put it back and then laid it down on the table. Balthazar turned and said to Kate;

"Very…interesting. So, how does it come to pass that you're entrusted with something like that without the knowledge of your Prime?"

"I told you, I'm a courier. I've been a courier for about sixty years. I know everyone and I've got a reputation for keeping things safe. Not to mention that I'm good friends with the Grand High," she said vaguely.

"Intimate friends," Michael added.

Her fingers crushed the cigarette in her hand.

"You know what? You've probably seen too much. Go wait outside Michael," she said, "I'll come and get you when I'm done."

"But it's raining! I think it might be hailing too," he protested, "And this store doesn't even have an overhang!"

"I know. And you're paying for the cab home as well. Now go wait outside."

She gave him an unpleasant look.

"Keep in mind that I think I'm being nice right now."

Muttering about not being able to take a joke Michael walked out of the shop and into the rain. Kate let the remnants of her cigarette drop onto the floor before waving them away with her hand. Feeling somewhat out of the loop Dave gestured to the sword that lay on the counter with all deceptive innocence.

"What is that exactly?"

"Excalibur," Veronica breathed.

Dave laughed uncomfortably.

"No, seriously."

"I **was** serious."

"Ah-ha," said Dave, feeling a little hysterical now.

Kate gave a raucous laugh as she lit another cigarette.

"Come on now kid," she said, "You think the English royals would really let something like that go? Merlin was a living legend in his own time, no generation would let that go. It's Merlin's greatest piece of work, forged by his father-in-law and saturated with magic by his own hands. When Arthur was killed at Camerann Merlin bore it to as a sign of kingship to Gareth. Gareth gave it to his son Henry when he became king, and so on and so forth. It may have passed out of recollection, but they've always had it with them."

She grinned at him.

"You're looking at the certified harbinger of victory," she said, "That sucker's the reason England hasn't been invaded for over a thousand years. 1066 was only an unfortunate mislay. The abridged version is simply this; when the Spanish Armada sailed Queen Elizabeth I had it by her side when she gave her speech to her troops. When Napoleon came it was given to the Duke of Wellington at Waterloo. World War I, World War II, it hung in the room deep underground in London where the cabinet had their meetings."

She looked at it with admiration.

"I can name at least three dozen other victories, but like I said, abridged," she said, "Excalibur doesn't even need to be at a battle for it to help certify victory, but it certainly helps. It inspires people, brings them into their own, gives them the strength to fight."

"Yeah, but it didn't do Arthur any good in the end," Dave said before he could stop himself, realizing he might've just committed another magical idiocy by the expression on Balthazar's face.

Kate shrugged.

"Did you see the engraving on it?" she asked.

"Um, yeah?"

"Know what it means?"

"No."

"Get this kid some Latin lessons," she said to Balthazar before turning back to him, "It means; to be used by a good man for a good cause. Arthur was a good man by the time Camerann came, but he also had a lot of sins on his head. I'm not talking about the 'I stole a candy bar in the third grade' kinda sins. Mordred was the prime one there, and that took away some of the sword's effectiveness. He didn't just bed another man's wife, that woman turned out to be his sister too. Drunk or not that's bad, some grade A stuff there. Never got over it, never forgave himself."

Kate leaned against the counter and sighed.

"Look, I'm not trying to info-dump on 'ya kid," she said, "But this was given to us on loan. The British Merlinian's uncovered a crypt that had been open and some serious magic pouring out of it. I think it was Mordred now, although I'm not sure I can tell George that without him suffering from a rather serious heart attack. Still, they know something's going on. They wanted that to be safe, and they figured that the only safe place would be with Merlin's heir. Besides, they think you might need it."

She smoked a little more before looking Dave up and down. He felt angry at the second critical scrutinization he'd gotten over the past two days. It made him feel like he was coming up short and did nothing at all for his self-esteem. He glared at her and she sighed again, waving the hand with the cigarette in it.

"You misunderstand," she said, "I know that this guy over here wouldn't waste his time with someone who couldn't do jack. I just need you to understand something; the sword chooses who gets to hold it, to wield it. You're going to have it for this battle, for better or for worse. Do you understand the enormous responsibility that places on you?"

Dave's eyes flickered over to the sword.

"You didn't mention that before."

"No, I didn't," she agreed, "You can't really go into this knowingly you know. But I need to know you understand."

Breathing deeply Dave looked over at the sword again. If he thought things were getting slightly mythic when he had first been told about the Prime Merlinian then this…this was just all and out mythology. He felt that old nervousness returning to him again, the old you've-got-the-wrong-guy feeling in his gut.

However, a lot had happened since he'd first felt that severe feeling of inferiority, since he realized that he couldn't control a few mops. He'd defeated Morgana by himself, fought Horvath without magic, and then had a tussle with a zombie sorcerer. Dave knew that he was the guy now, or was at least rapidly becoming him. Swallowing he looked back at Kate and stood up straighter.

"I understand."


	28. Chapter 28

"Your posture is a little sloppy," Veronica said, "Straighten your back, don't slouch. Now go back to the form."

Wiping the sweat off of his forehead Dave tried to balance himself. The problem with practicing with Excalibur was rather difficult to circumvent. Anything but the most enchanted of objects would break with a little nudge from it. This actually ruled out sword practice with it, at least for the time being.

Balthazar sat over in the corner, working on enchanting another sword so that Dave could get a feel for Excalibur in combat. Right now he was still sparring with normal swords and then practicing plain form with Excalibur. The big difference was weight, since it barely seemed to be in his hand. That and the humming it made when it came through the air, which got extremely annoying after awhile.

"All about form right now," she said, "Don't cut corners. In combat if it works do it, but it's important when you're not in any actual danger. Now then."

She clapped her hands, her ring glowing brightly. A shadowy opponent appeared and she closed her eyes. It waved a sword at Dave who quickly brought up Excalibur to parry. The shadow stopped inches from his sword and continued going. They went this way for a few minutes before Dave slashed through where its chest would be. The shadow sank into the ground.

"The spell for the shadow is not perfect, for one you don't get the actual jar of the impact," Veronica said, "And its moves are fairly predictable, just a repetition of different forms. But it's the best I can do for now."

"Better than my illusions anyway," Dave said.

"Anything's better than your illusions," commented Balthazar, "I think there are a few discount Halloween decorations that look better."

"You're the model of encouragement," Dave said, sitting down on a chair, "I really don't need any extra self-esteem issues right now."

"Extra?" inquired Veronica.

"Tomorrow's Thanksgiving," Dave said glumly.

"Yes, time to meet Becky's grandmother," Veronica said, "This must be a rather scary time for you."

"I wouldn't say scary," he said.

"Dave, you are a most dreadful liar," sighed Veronica, "Either don't lie or find a way to practice somehow."

"Ok, it's terrifying," Dave amended.

"I'm sure you could use some advice on something like this, man to man," she said, her voice raising.

"I guess," Dave answered.

"Yes, it sure would help!" she said, even louder now.

Her foot tapped the floor impatiently while Dave stared at her, wondering if something was wrong. She looked over at Balthazar and jerked her head towards Dave. Sighing he got up and walked over to the younger man.

"What do you need to know?"

Dave started.

"Huh?"

"I am not repeating myself," Balthazar said.

"Oh uh, but I thought you said-"

"No, I'v never had to do what you're doing," said Balthazar, "But there have been times in the past where my life depended on me making a good impression on people. I do know how to be personable."

He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"I just never really liked it. That's why charming the pants off people usually fell to Horvath with his machinations," Balthazar continued, "I had a reputation for being honest and that helped whenever the two of us had to do some sort of political deal."

"And Veronica?" Dave found himself asking.

"Oh Veronica?" he shrugged, "I'm surprised you need to ask. Veronica could make men fall over themselves with a smile."

Balthazar gave her a reproachful look which she returned with a smile. Sighing again he turned back to Dave.

"See what I mean? Get that look long enough and you'll do the most idiotic things."

"Like leaving sweetmeats and flowers in a library," Veronica said sweetly.

His shoulders slumped a little and he murmured;

"At least I didn't bring in any minstrels."

"Thank God for that," she said.

"Anyway," said Balthazar, coughing, "we're getting sidetracked. The point is I have had to work my way out of some situations before and I have been around for changing relations for a long time. So come on, talk to me."

"First off, I think I'd like to know how I should-" Dave started, swallowing.

.

.

.

"Julian, Tabitha, the circle is not a playground!" Jack cried.

Kate looked up from her desk. On it was a large map of New York with red dots drawn over it. She had been starting to connect them when she heard the cry from the other room. Rolling her eyes, because for all the fact that he was a teacher Jack wasn't very good with the twins, she got up and walked over. Their parents, or Masters if you would, really needed to stop spoiling them.

Flinging the doors to the practice room open she saw what the problem was immediately. The twins were inside of the large Merlin's circle, using the different symbols as hopscotch patterns. For all of the fact that this was equivalent to blasphemy she had to admire how dexterous they were not to actually touch any of the lines. She knew Tabitha was in gymnastics, but she hadn't known that Julian was good to. That was something to remember no doubt.

"Hey, brats!" she snapped.

The twins abruptly stopped their skipping and looked at her with terror. Jack looked relieved and wandered out of the circle, content now to watch and see what would happen to the miscreants. Kate walked in, one hand hugging herself and the other rubbing her chin. She made sure to look thoughtful, something that always scared people who knew her.

"Ah, you're in the mind circle," she said sweetly, "Then certainly you're doing mind magic! Come on, let's see an illusion."

Tabitha and Julian looked at each other.

"We uh, we don't know how," Tabitha said, being the braver of the two.

"But you were in the mind circle," she said, "Let's see some. Come on now."

Swallowing they put on their rings.

"No rings on?" Kate said, "Who are you, the Prime Merlinian? Hurry up."  
The two of them concentrated. A small mist started to form, which was quite good for a first try. She would never tell them that though. Neither of her Masters had molly-coddled her; she could only remember five times in her life that she had actually been praised by John Steed. Still, she had turned out powerful for all the times that she cursed him as a hardass.

The mist vanished and the two twelve-year olds were left holding their heads and moaning. A brief but painful migraine, it'd be gone in about half an hour. Kate stepped over the circle and crouched in front of them. Her tone was a good deal more patient now; they did seem to be in rather a lot of discomfort after all.

"That's why we don't mess around in the circle," she said, "You're lucky I didn't make you wash the hallway. You see, the two of you are very good healers and I've got a fondness for healers. But the symbol of our order is not, as Mr. Preston said, a playground. Got it?"

They nodded.

"Good. Now go into the main lobby and study your Incantuses quietly for some time. I hope you'll get up to the Victorian era by the end of today."

In silence the two of them trudged out. Kate got up, stretching her knees. Crouching down like that was uncomfortable in the extreme. However, it was either crouch down or talk to the air, and that meant no eye contact. She had found in her life that making eye contact in conversations tended to get better results.

"You're good with them," Jack said, "Mixing gut-wrenching fear and respect."

"It's what I do in life," she said, "You can't talk to children like they have mental issues; makes them mad. Try to talk to them like little adults. They'll like you for that."

"I'm not a terrifying figure," he said, grabbing his coats, "Even my students say that. And I'm running late for class as it is."

"The sooner you start treating them like an adult the sooner they'll start being one."

"That's the last thing you want if you're a parent," laughed Jack as he went out the door, "My Belinda's only two and a half right now. I'm in no hurry to see her grow up."

"No," Kate said, "I don't imagine so."

The door closed. She looked hard at the mind circle where Tabitha and Julian had been playing. Her hands fumbled into her pocket for cigarettes, her hands shaking slightly. No, she didn't think you wanted your children to grow up fast. Then again, what would she know about that? She had never had any and most likely never would.

Inhaling deeply she looked down at her left hand. There was no ring there, no tan line of a ring, and there never would be. Once upon a time there'd been a possibility. It had been held out to her in the traditional hopeful manner, black velvet box and everything. Kate wasn't one to dwell on things, but she'd carry the image of his face when she shook her head with her forever. George had been younger then, more hopeful. She had been the first person to crush that for him.

Her reasons had been good and he had, for lack of a choice if he wanted to remain friends, agreed. The twenty-first century was a long time. Perhaps she'd be alive in the year 2999, fulfilling her destiny. Who knew? She wasn't going to watch her children and spouse grow old and die. She'd already been through that with her brother and cousin Robin. Never again.

Kate envied Balthazar. He was reaping a reward that he had deserved a long time ago. Would she get rewarded? Probably not. The picture in front of the pillars might be a tribute to her death for all she knew. So there would be no husband, no children, nothing in life but a position that bounced her from place to place. John had hoped that it would suitably distance her from people, allow the pain to lessen. Good intentions but ones that didn't work.

Still, if she stayed too long in New York then she'd just get attached to everyone here. She was already too close to them. What had she been thinking taking over Ashley's education? She gave the girl another fifty years. Kate would probably be around when Tabitha's grandchildren were the new blood. Jack was the grandson of one of her peers for cryin' out loud.

So being Prime was out of the question. There was no way that she would do that to herself. She'd suffered enough already for duty. Flicking cigarette ash on the ground she turned and walked out of the room. Kate had work to do, and then she was getting out of New York for a few years. Once more she'd have to start running.


	29. Chapter 29

Dave took it as an omen. How could it be anything but? After weeks of nervously trying to figure out how to make a good impression, an agonizing train ride, and an expensive taxi fare, this was what happened. He really should've been expecting it though. It wasn't like he'd been given to being particularly lucky.

A large Golden Retriever stood on its chest. It had gotten there because, as soon as Becky had unlocked the door to the house, it had bolted out there. It had gone straight for Dave, knocking him on its back. The pain had been the first thing he registered, the pain that was still there. The second thing was that the dog was still on his chest, snarling at him like it would like nothing better than to eat him.

He had always liked dogs in the past. Tank had been especially good to him, an easy little creature to handle. It had been something he'd appreciated. Sure he'd slobbered a lot and had a tendency to mess up important things, but he was basically harmless. At his core he was loyal and never strained on his leash when out for walks.

This dog though, this dog was something different. Drool was expended only because it was curling its lips back in order to bare its teeth at him. As it was its claws were digging into his chest, and this was a big dog. He could feel its weight pressing down on him and he held his hands up by his head in a gesture of surrender.

"Dorothy!" Becky commanded, "Bad dog! Bad!"

The dog, or Dorothy as it was, stopped growling. It looked up at Becky and started to wag its tail slowly from side to side.

"Off! Friend Dorothy! Friend!"

Dorothy looked skeptically from Dave to Becky.

"Friend," she repeated.

With a toss of its head the dog trotted off Dave and headed towards Becky. Dorothy whined a little and Becky started to scratch behind her ears. Not completely convinced that he was off the hook Dave started to get up slowly. In response Dorothy growled again, proving his suspicions correct.

"Friend," sighed Becky.

Dorothy nuzzled Becky's knee and Dave got up. Becky gave him an apologetic look, still scratching behind Dorothy's ears.

"I didn't think she'd do that," she said, "I'm sorry."

"Ah, no problem, I guess," he said, brushing the dirt off of himself and hoping that it didn't stain, "She your grandmother's?"

"Latest in a long string of blind-seeing eye dogs," explained Becky, "I told you she was blind since she was thirteen right? Over seventy-one years you have a lot of dogs. The first one was called Teresa I think. Then she had puppies and my grandmother picked one of the girls for herself so that Teresa wouldn't be without one of them. Named her Michelle and had her trained as a guide. Then Teresa died and Michelle had puppies, all the way down to Dorothy here."

Becky smiled and petted her again. Now that she mentioned it he could see that there was a small harness hooked onto Dorothy's back.

"I was there when her mother, Alix, had her. I got to name her."

"Huh," Dave said, rubbing the back of his neck, "A little on the protective side, isn't she?"

"Maybe she just smelt Tank," Becky said, "But let's go inside. If Dorothy's here then my grandmother hasn't left the house."

He let Becky lead the way in to Wisteria Gable. Dave was a bit awed by the sheer size of the building. It was huge, and there was a good deal of land around it that had been gated. From what Becky had told him there was anywhere from two to four servants who helped out. It was a far cry from the five room and ninety dollars a month apartment of his youth.

"Grandmother?" called Becky, "I'm home!"

"Becky?" a lilting voice called back, "Wonderful, dinner's just about ready! Leave your bags by the door, someone will get them. I'm in the kitchen."

Becky smiled at Dave and closed the door behind him. She took off her coat and scarf, hanging them on a coat rack by the door. Dave followed suit, even making sure to carefully take off his shoes. The carpets looked expensive and he was glad that he was wearing new, black, clean socks. Even Dorothy, who was still looking at him with sneaky, suspicious looks, had clean paws.

Taking his hand Becky took him into a side kitchen. A young woman was standing by the sink, definitely a maid or a cook by her nondescript clothes. She was stirring something in a pot, tasting it carefully. She started to pour it into a large silver tureen when she noticed the two of them standing in the door way.

"Diane," the room's other occupant said.

With a nod she smiled quickly and moved to leave. It was, after all, a bit of a serious family affair. She did cast an interested look at Dave before she left, making Becky grip his hand a little tighter. Once she was gone he allowed himself the terrifying excitement of looking at the room's other occupant.

She was old, but if Becky hadn't mentioned that she was eighty he would've taken her for sixty. The way he had heard it explained both her and Becky's father had had children in their thirties, accounting for her now advanced age. Then again, she didn't look that old at all, not for someone who was eighty-four.

"Joanna's daughter," she explained, turning around and smiling, "Just came in to help out since we have extra company. Oh Becky, it's good to have you back."

She moved forward, getting her bearings by touching the edges of the counters and the small table in the middle of the kitchen. Her other hand found Becky's shoulder and pulled her close. Becky let go of Dave's hand to be able to hug her back, bending down a little to do it. Although her grandmother's posture was good she was at least a half a foot shorter than Becky.

Her grandmother pulled away and looked over in Dave's direction.

"Now I know heard two people come in, and Dorothy's pacing a little over here," she said, "You must be Dave?"

Her hand was thrust forward. He took it, shaking it and, despite the fact he knew he didn't need to, gave what he hoped was a winning smile.

"Pleasure to meet you Mrs. Barnes."

She frowned at him, cocking her head this way and that. Her eyes, though they no longer saw, moved around as though looking at him. It was like she was trying to figure something out about him, and it wasn't good to be watched by those intense pale blue eyes with gold flecks in them.

A nauseous feeling started up in his stomach. Dave hadn't had anything to eat that morning, since he figured he would be nervous enough. So nausea? He couldn't understand where that was coming from. He didn't feel ill enough at ease yet for it to be caused by Becky's grandmother, although she was still looking at him funny. A worried expression stole over her face, vanishing quickly into a smile.

"You're the first boy Becky's ever brought home you know," she said, withdrawing her hand, "It's interesting to meet you."

"Grandmother," Becky said, blushing.

"It's true," she said, "Although she did fall rather hard for this one boy in the fourth grade. Cried so hard when he transferred."

She winked and Dave had to catch his breath. He looked over at Becky whose face was bright red.

"Grandmother, you know that it's your job to make **him** feel uncomfortable," Becky murmured.

"Now why would I do that?" her grandmother asked, bending a little so she could find the small harness that Dorothy wore around her back, "He hasn't done anything to me, not yet anyway."

"Is this revenge for breaking the microwave when I was seventeen?" asked Becky, "You always did say you'd get me back."

"Perhaps," her grandmother answered, nudging Dorothy forwards.

Dorothy trotted into the adjoining room, which proved to be a dining room. She nudged a seat with her nose which Becky's grandmother pulled out and sat in. Dave pulled out a chair for Becky and sat next to her. For such a large room the table was rather small. The rest of the room was taken up by a large piano in the corner.

"Now then," she said, "I don't expect you to know much about me, but Becky talks about you incessantly. A physics major then?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Any good at it?" she asked.

"I'm okay," he answered.

"He's being modest," Becky said, "Physics professors who haven't even had him had a fight over who got to use him as a TA last year. The administration had to get involved and even then it started spiraling out of control. There were even a few reports of equipment sabotage. The only reason it didn't end in bloodshed was because they agreed to share him out on a rotating schedule."

"You're exaggerating," Dave said, smiling nervously.

"We both know I'm not."

"Physics," her grandmother said thoughtfully, "I suppose you enjoy that subject very much, don't you?"

She paused, and then added with a degree of haste;

"To be willing to be a TA after all."

"I do, yeah," he said.

"And you're also a New York native from what I hear," she said, "Parents from New York too?"

"My mom anyway."

Dave swallowed and started to drum his fingers against the top of the table. The next question would be about his father. He hadn't told any of his new acquaintances except Balthazar about his father, or lack of one. Dave wouldn't lie about it, but he had always figured that lying by omission was somewhat acceptable.

In short, if he had to mention that his father ran out leaving his pregnant mother behind it would be the first that Becky would hear of it. She had shared so much of her family history with him he felt it wrong not to tell her about this, but it wasn't as though it had ever really mattered before. Before he could come up with a lie, since the little he knew about his father didn't include where he was from, Becky's grandmother said;

"I was adopted you know," she said, "From a shelter. My mother died giving birth to me, she could actually have been from Switzerland for all I know. My new father, a New Yorker, found me a few weeks later. There really couldn't have been a luckier girl in the world when that happened."

She smiled at him, fixing those odd blue eyes on him again. He got the feeling she'd said that only to circumvent the question about his father. Although it was probably just coincidence he found himself smiling back. As the food was brought in he found himself thinking that perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.


	30. Chapter 30

Lacy turned the kettle off. She calmly poured the steaming water into the teapot, groping for it with her free hand. There had been a time, when her blindness had first taken her, that she could hardly get through a day without hurting herself. Now touch had opened a new world, although she still ached for the vision that had been stolen.

There were two cups on the table. It was her best china. She could tell that it was because of the scalloped edges. It had been a wedding gift from the Prestons back when tea sets had been given as wedding gifts for reasons other than ornamentation. She'd put some cookies out too, knowing that that was what a good hostess did.

Taking a seat that faced the door she let her eyes roam back up to the ceiling, not that it mattered. It was too instinctive to stop using her eyes to 'see' anymore. She had given Dave the guest bedroom and Becky her old one. They had retired about an hour ago after what she saw as a very successful Thanksgiving dinner. Lacy knew that they were under the impression that she was asleep too.

Overall she had been pleased, although she did have her own misgivings about the boy. Lacy poured herself a cup of tea and started to sip it. He seemed to be nice, nerdy, but perhaps a touch too uncertain about himself. Dave would need to get rid of that uncertainty fairly soon. She was surprised that he hadn't already.

She stretched her feet out. Normally she would have Dorothy snuggled up near her just in case she needed guidance. She had been living in this house for fifty years, knew it as well as she knew herself. Emergencies did arise sometimes though and Dorothy would be needed. However, that night she had sent her upstairs to curl up at the foot of Becky's bed like she had done since she was a puppy. If she was down there then she would start barking.

Oh yes. Setting her cup down she said very politely;

"I know you're here."

There was no answer. She grinned.

"Just because I'm old doesn't mean that I've lost my gifts," she said, "Why do you think I set out two places? Have a seat Mr. Blake."

The sound of a chair being pushed back filled the air.

"I think you can call me Balthazar by now," he said.

"I was raised to be polite to my elders, something that this generation seems to forget," she said, "And have some tea and cookies. You've teleported yourself quite a ways to have a conversation with me."

China clinked and Balthazar took a cookie, although he didn't eat it just yet.

"How's Veronica?" she asked.

"Adjusting to modern life is a little hard, but not overly so," he said, "She was always a quick learner. We're engaged."

"That I know," she said, "If you forget she was wearing your necklace in that picture I gave you all those years ago. I could see that scene."

"I remember, I remember."

He took a sip of tea.

"If you knew about my coming, then I assume you know why I'm here?" he asked.

"Not exactly no," she replied, "I know it has something to do with your apprentice upstairs. However, I'm sure he hasn't asked her to marry him yet. **That** I would've had a vision about."

"Twenty's considered young these days and- wait, did you say **yet**?"

"I was married by twenty," she said, ignoring his question, "But yes, yes it is. So why are you here? You're not exactly one for social calls."

There was a pause while he tried to gather his thoughts and possibly forget the three letter word he had inopportunely heard. Balthazar rested his head in his hands. Almost immediately Lacy said;

"Elbows off the table."

"Really?"

"Still my house."

"I suppose being of the 777th degree doesn't mean anything?"

"Not a thing if you've got your elbows on the table. That's just plain rude no matter who you are."

"Fine," Balthazar said, removing the offending elbows, "But what I wanted to ask you was how much influence do you still have over the New York Merlinians?"

Lacy hesitated. Just because she had seen him coming didn't mean that she had seen what the conversation was about. She had seen parts certainly, but not this part.

"This is about Bianca, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yes."

"She won't be Prime, don't try and make her," Lacy said, "She took Robin's death very hard, never really got over it."

"I was sorry to hear about that," said Balthazar.

"He lived a good life," Lacy said, "I can only hope that my own death will be as peaceful as his was."

Balthazar let his eyes wander over to Lacy's left hand. She still had the wedding band on it, although the bracelet he had remembered her wearing a long time ago was gone. If he remembered correctly it had been a gift for Lacy's birthday, something that Robin had helped chip in on.

"I'm going to wear that ring until I die, and I have the feeling I'll be buried in it as well," she said, "And as for the bracelet, it's Becky's now. It was a trinket for a young woman, and if someone has to have it I would rather it be her."

She paused.

"Does she know what he is?" she asked, "She doesn't know what I am; I thought it wouldn't do to tell her. But what about him?"

"Yes, she knows," Balthazar said, "Unfortunately things got complicated when we were fighting Horvath. She was kidnapped and held hostage."

Lacy bit her lip.

"I know it can't be easy to hear that she was held by Horvath, but he didn't hurt her," said Balthazar, "He just wanted to use her as collateral."

Saying nothing Lacy looked down at her cup of tea.

"Seventy-one years have passed Balthazar," she said, "And I've never forgotten that day. I…she must have been terrified."

"…I don't know. I wasn't there."

"You weren't?" she asked, looking up.

"I was occupied with the upholstery. Dave had to handle it. He gave up both Merlin's ring and the Grimhold for her release," said Balthazar.

His fingers drummed on the table.

"I know what you're thinking, that it's dangerous, he's dangerous," he said softly, "But if it's any consolation I think he'd rather die than let her be hurt because of him."

"Robin felt the same way," she answered, "It didn't do any good other than almost get him killed in the end."

"But he wasn't," pointed out Balthazar.

Lacy looked upwards.

"I know he'll do his best. But Balthazar, she's my only descendent," she said, "After Gregory died I knew I had to take her in. I wasn't sure if I would be a very good guardian, I was so very old then. But I helped raise her."

"Sounds like you **did **raise her. Bianca told me."  
"Does she know who Becky is?' asked Lacy, "I tried to protect her from all of this."

She waved her hands in the air vaguely.

"No," he answered, "I thought it prudent not to say."

"Good. Balthazar, I'm just trying to do right by her. She's just as vulnerable as Gregory. We couldn't keep him out of it all entirely," said Lacy, "But she had a chance. Does magic just stalk our families? Certainly I'd want to keep it inside the family, but not at the cost of losing anyone."

"I'm not the one to ask that question," replied Balthazar, "But are you sure about Bianca? Justin's an idiot."

"I'm sure," she said firmly, "Bianca won't do it. Do you know she was in love with a Prime from England? Might still be. I think he's been promoted now, but he asked her to marry him and she said no. If Robin hadn't been dead than she might have said yes. Robin understood her better than the rest of us, even after her longevity spells had been put on. None of us really understand though and I think she lost her courage for a strange future when he died."

Biting into her cookie she sighed.

"Every day I think she loses a bit of her old boldness," she said, "She tries to make it up with her bullheaded stubbornness, but it's obvious that she's losing something of what she was. You know how it must feel. Those spells will wear off when she completes her purpose, but who knows when that will be? I wish I'd never drawn that picture."

Balthazar didn't say anything, just leaned back in his chair.

"It might be now," he said, "We're fighting Mordred."

"That I didn't know," Lacy said, "I knew something was going on, but I didn't know it was him. Is he bad?"

"I don't think a word's been invented that describes him accurately but I'll settle for sociopathic and that seems like an understatement."

"Oh."

"Just think of sociopathic like Hitler was sociopathic," said Balthazar, "Anything you can give us would be useful, the other reason I came here. You're still the most powerful Seer in the world."

"Flattery," she said, "And that I know."

Lacy got up from the table and felt her way over to the counter. There were three drawings there, each one done carefully in pastels. She placed two of them on the table and kept the third in her hand. Although she couldn't see them she knew what they were. One was showed two stiff people knocking on the door to the audience chamber in the Chrysler building. The other was a taxi rocketing at high speed down a road.

"These are important, although I don't know why," she said, "I only saw a few minutes of them and they didn't make much sense. I don't even know who's in the car. This is the one I'm worried about though."

She laid the last one on the table. Becky and Veronica were sitting in the middle of the living room of Becky's apartment. Veronica was wearing winter clothes, leaning against a couch. Becky wore a white nightgown and was kneeling next to her, smiling. Balthazar gave a small cough.

"I don't see why this is worrying."

"I don't know, I can't remember," she said, "I just knew that something horrible was going to happen when I saw it."

There was a noise from upstairs.

"I think she's waking up," Lacy said, "You'd better go Balthazar. I can't have her knowing just yet."

Balthazar nodded and scooped up the extra drawings. He picked up his dishes and laid them by the sink. Before he left the room he said;

"We were inviting a few people to the wedding," he said, "Some for reasons other than traditional ones, but…"

His voice trailed off suggestively.

"Balthazar," she said quietly, staring into her tea, "I can't. I'm eighty-four, even if I don't look it. I haven't been outside of the house for more than an hour for years. I'm frailer than I look…please don't tell Becky…"

She looked up at him and he nodded in understanding.

"I'm glad things worked out for you Mrs. Barnes," he said.

"As much as they could have," she answered.

He left the house in a swirl of magic and she sat back down. Her mind wandered to the other three drawings that she'd tucked away in her nightstand. She had done the right thing in keeping those three secret. As much as she trusted Balthazar, she couldn't give him those visions. They weren't, after all, for him.


	31. Chapter 31

"Grandma?"

Becky saw her grandmother look up from the table. Dorothy nudged the back of her knee and yawned sleepily. Her nose was cold, which just added to her discomfort. Becky hadn't thought to grab her slippers before she went down the wooden stairs, and apparently there was a cold snap going on.

Still, she was already down there and it wasn't Dorothy's fault her nose was cold and wet. It wasn't her fault that the floor was made of cold tile either. She patted Dorothy's head and took a seat at the table.

"Late night tea?" she asked.

"It helps me sleep sometimes," she answered.

"Got any extra?"

"Most likely. I always make too much."

Getting up Becky grabbed a mug from the cupboard. She didn't know why her grandmother had chosen that night to use the special china, but Becky didn't trust herself with it. Her childhood had been full of events that had, one after another, lead to the breaking of expensive things. If it had been her in the Arcana Cabana instead of Dave she would've broken the urn open.

"So," Becky said, pouring herself some tea and resuming her seat, "How did you enjoy today?"

"Good. Different but good. I heard your young man separating the food on his plate. Can't stand to have anything touch each other hm?"

"Yeah," Becky said, "That's Dave."

She took a sip of tea.

"You know, you haven't told me what you think of him yet."

"When was I supposed to do that? I couldn't very well do it with him in the room could I?" she asked, "It's unbearably rude and it would've served to make everyone comfortable. The boy's not a piece of meat you know."

Becky started laughing.

"You need to meet Jill sometime and hear what she has to say on the subject of men," said Becky, "She comes in with a different guy every month. There was a period once where it was every week."

"Party girl."

"Kind of," said Becky, "Wanna know what she said about Dave?"

"Oh, me and my morbid curiosity. What?"

"She said," Becky said, "And I quote; He'd better have brains since he sure doesn't have the body."

"Now that's harsh," her grandmother, "I've never seen him but that really is erring on the side of meanness. Is he really that bad?"

"No, not at all. Jill just expects her guys to be football players bursting with testosterone," said Becky.

"Your grandfather was a football player. Won the championships for our high school back in '43."

"Yeah, not all football players are like that. Grandpa for instance had a lot more than five brain cells. I don't think Jill's boyfriends could spell 'intelligence'," Becky replied, "After all, Grandpa became a doctor and married you, so he had to have been smart right?"

"Now that's nice."

She laughed and Becky looked down at the mug.

"Yeah, Dave's no football player, I can tell you that much. But he's got this kind of cute thing he does when he's confused or awkward. Just makes me want to hug or kiss him. And he's got a great smile, makes his eyes light up like the fourth of July."

Her breath caught and she closed her eyes.

"That's the way he looks at me sometimes," she said.

Opening her eyes she saw that her grandmother was looking at her intently.

"I think this trip was a bit of a waste," she said.

"What?" asked Becky.

"Well, it's plain that you've made up your mind to have him. Do you really need my approval?" she asked.

Becky felt a blush coming onto her cheeks.

"I wanted you to meet him," she said, deciding that that was the safest thing she could say.

"And I have met him," answered her grandmother, "I think he's a little awkward, but he's still very young. Family seems important to him, at least from what I heard about his mother, uncle, and future aunt."

Becky's grip on her mug tightened. She didn't like lying to her grandmother, but when Balthazar's name had accidentally slipped Dave's lips he'd had to say quickly that he was his uncle. Veronica was mentioned as his fiancé, and Dave found the conversation easier to maneuver around once he'd said that. Still, the lie smarted a little inside, or at least the avoidance.

"Overall," her grandmother continued, "I think he's a good kid but he could use some guidance in his life. His uncle seems to be doing a good job in providing some from what he said, so far in any case, and so do you."

Before Becky could ask what she meant her grandmother added;

"You've definitely made an impact on him. I can tell."

Her grandmother's hand moved across the table. She placed it on Becky's and, when she spoke, her words carried strange weight.

"I know you're going to be very happy together."

Becky smiled but had to fight back tears for some unknown reason.

"I think we could be too," she said.

.

.

.

Veronica woke up. Her hand moved to where Balthazar normally was and she blinked when she realized he wasn't there. However, she didn't think much of it. Unlike her first night back in the world she didn't panic. He was probably just downstairs, doing something that he had forgotten to do the day before.

Her eyes turned to the clock. It was 2:40 a.m. the morning after Thanksgiving. She flopped onto her back, wondering why she had woken up at this time after such an exhausting day. She had insisted on celebrating it to some degree, although not as obsessive as she'd been about Halloween. No paper chains had decorated the walls for this one, and there were certainly no jack-o-lanterns to carve.

Even so she had still put a good deal of effort into making sure that the holiday was wonderful. Veronica had formed the impression that Balthazar spent all of his holidays alone after the events at Merlin's Keep. Perhaps he had celebrated a few of them, or had at least acknowledged them with a visit or two to the church. They had been raised in Medieval England after all, and failure to attend church on certain holidays, with no excuse of illness, would've been equivalent to damning themselves.

So she had done her best to make sure that he celebrated this one. There would be no excuses. In the name of duty she had dragged him to grocery stores with her and watched all of the specials. She'd do the necessary precautions for Christmas and Easter as well. Veronica just needed to figure out how they were celebrated in this century.

Closing her eyes she thought about her future plans. She didn't intend to get rid of all of the traditions she was used to, just scale back on them or add. Veronica couldn't see any reason to modernize completely and lose everything of the past. There were some traditions she was pretty sure could go for example, like the cockatrice for example. Stitching two different dead animals together before cooking them had never been appetizing to her.

She turned onto her side again and willed time to move faster. 2:42 a.m. She rolled onto her other side in order to get more comfortable. Balthazar's absence was preventing her from going back to sleep. She was just so used to him being there, an arm wrapped around her or a hand on her shoulder as she drifted off.

Her eyes opened and she looked out the window she'd forgotten to draw the curtains to. It was a habit of hers and she had been woken by the sunlight more than once as a result. The streetlight looked a little different that night and she frowned. Gathering the comforter around her, it was very cold after all, she walked up to the window to investigate.

Snow was falling gently onto the street below her. She leaned in, watching the flakes float down and land on the street. Veronica hadn't seen snow in over a millennium. The Grimhold had been winter without snow's beautiful purity to cover up its harshness. Seeing it now that everything was over took her breath away.

Arms circled around her from behind.

"What are you doing up so late?"

She smiled and leaned back into Balthazar's embrace.  
"It's snowing love," she said.

"I know," he replied, "It does that in winter sometimes."

He stopped and she had the feeling that he suddenly understood what this meant to her, or at least to some extent.

"Do you remember the winter around the Keep?" she said, "The whole world blanketed in white like a protective shield. I went once and fought a manticore up in the North and the snow was so deep I thought I'd get lost in it."

"We thought you weren't coming back."

"But I did," she said, "How could I leave all of that behind? Scarborough was wonderful in the winter, but nothing like where I had grown up. So beautiful."

"It still scared the living daylights out of us," he said, "I prefer that winter we all went out to that dance at the court for Twelfth night celebrations. Remember that?"

"Of course," she murmured, "How could I forget? It was my first dance."

She laughed.

"I fell in love with you there."

"Really, **there**?" he asked, moving his head forwards so he could look at her, "I was a jerk to you that night!"

"I won't say fell in love," she said, "I'll revise it to **realized** I was in love with you. But yes, you were being a 'jerk' as you would say. But you caught yourself and tried to make amends to me. And then you held me…and it was the_ Dawn Song _I think."

Her hand reached backwards and traced his jaw.

"Your skin was warmer than mine. Still is."

"I had forgotten, the song I mean," he said quietly, "I didn't love you until some months later. I'm sorry."

"It was enough that you loved me in the end."

Balthazar hesitated before kissing the side of her face. He went to do it again but she turned around and met him on the lips.

"I don't mind being up this early you know," she murmured, "Not if it means were get to do this every morning."

"Don't tempt me," he said before moving in for another kiss.


	32. Chapter 32

"It was interesting, fighting the Prime Merlinian. I haven't felt power like that since Mother would teach me when I was little," Mordred said thoughtfully, "Only, it was more raw, more untapped. It seems wasted on him. I was never very good at sensing auras, but I could pick up a few things from him, sort of a rough-around the edges feel. He's smoothing things out though, I could sense Balthazar's magic in that and a little bit of Veronica's. Very interesting indeed."

This was the first time Mordred had spoken of his encounter with Dave. Before that he would just whistle cheerfully to himself and get on with his projects, none of which Horvath understood. Finally, more out of irritation than anything, Horvath had broached the subject. He was surprised to find Mordred so talkative.

That was probably the big difference between Morgana and her son; talk. If Morgana had wanted something done she would do it. Mordred would plan it out for months and then discuss it. Of the two he preferred Morgana's method. Then again, Mordred still had that diabolical tang which had made Horvath follow Morgana in the first place. He suspected that that was because Mordred wasn't entirely alone upstairs, but he knew better than to share that thought.

"And the New York Merlinians?" asked Horvath, "They are some of the most advanced Merlinians in America."

"Really? Then this should by all accounts be easy. There's only eight sorcerers, three apprentices, and that's all. The ones I met were small fry, except perhaps for the smoking woman," he said, "I can't believe such a brazen woman is tolerated in any century. She's not actually a threat, but she's powerful enough to be a nuisance."

He stretched, cat-like.

"You said you had experience with them. You should've told me more. And you should've told me the Prime Merlinian's lover was pretty too, the one with all the glares and no strength," he said, "It makes you feel nice, seeing a pretty girl every now and then. I always did have a thing for blondes."

Mordred smiled as if smiling a private joke with himself.

"Ah, you should've been there. The glares, the drama, you'd have enjoyed it. It was so theatrical, and I do love the theater. It was fun too, but in an odd sort of way. Sort of…ah…you know what I mean."

Horvath shook his head because he really didn't know what he meant. In response Mordred simply shrugged and finished up his latest meal with a good deal of relish. While he had adapted to many facets of modern life utensils was not one he had chosen to master. Personally Horvath found it disgusting, but the magic on the subway had sped up Mordred's decomposition. He ate ravenously now, needing the extra energy.

Throwing a few teeth over his shoulder he licked his fingers and examined the second body a few feet away from him. Unlike the first one it was uncooked; he had specified it that way. Horvath felt it was undignified to be his chef, but it wouldn't be for much longer now, not long at all.

"Very good. We've got step one done," he said.

"How many steps are there?" asked Horvath impatiently.

Mordred looked at him in surprise.

"My," he said, "aren't we irked? The answer is several."

Horvath gave him a look. Mordred shrugged and pulled something out of his pocket. It looked as though he had melted two box cutters together, their blades running double. Methodically he put it under the second corpse's ear and applied pressure. With great care he started to drag it down the side of the body over the shoulder.

"Fine, maybe you are, and you may have a right to be. You have been awake for all these centuries, waiting for revenge, unlike myself," he said with a sigh, "But really, I told you what I plan to do and how I plan to do it."

"And it's good. But it sounds like it will come to fruition many months from now, if that," railed Horvath, "I understand why you wish to wait so long, to get your strength up and to lead them into a false sense of security. But I'm not used to inactivity for the length of time you suggest."

"True," conceded Mordred, "And I don't want you getting lazy."

The blades reached the elbow. With great care he carved through the joint and adjusted the width of the blades to make it skinnier. He took a deep breath and continued with his macabre tracings. The blade followed the inside of each of the fingers, finally coming out on the hand. He readjusted it so that it was thicker, and continued the process with the rest of the corpse.

"A gentle hand, a gentle hand," he murmured to himself, "I know that-yes I'm doing it slowly. You know how delicate I can be in such matters. If this one goes wrong it's the knife's fault, not mine. The blades are just too thick around here. There's nothing thin and strong enough in this strange world."

Putting the box cutters away Mordred picked up the skin under the ear. Horvath looked away, disgusted. He knew what Mordred was doing , had seen him practice many times before. He was starting to peel the skin back, his eyes fixed on it as it moved. Normally towards the shoulder blade the skin twisted and tore free. Mordred would then have a temper tantrum and Horvath would leave the room.

During the entire process Horvath, despite being ignored, never said a word. He wasn't that suicidal. Whatever Mordred was doing he was very intent on and he had guessed that he wouldn't want to be distrubed. Morgana had been the same way; he had seen her anger erupt frequently among those who disturbed her while she was working on a complex spell. At long last he heard a noise and looked over at him.

Mordred was holding a tape of the dead man's skin in triumph.

"Do you know what this is Horvath?" he said.

Horvath shook his head. Merlin had never been big on physical magic. He had counted it a as a dark art that was best left alone.

"It's a spancel," he said, "And I honestly didn't think I'd be able to do this tonight. It advances our agenda, having a complete spancel."

He smiled.

"Horvath, you complain about the wait that you've endured. But the wait has been because of you," he said, "Mother and I wanted to thank you for everything you've done. This is our gift. The spancel's for you."

Mordred laughed as he saw Horvath's incredulous expression.

"You'll be thankful for it when I explain how to use it. Now, the plan is to get rid of the local Merlinians and build our base right here, yes?"

Horvath nodded.

"But first we need to get rid of Balthy and the Prime Nerdinian," he said, "And I hereby give you permission to go and kill Balthazar."

There was a pause.

"Oh yes, and Veronica, we can't forget about the future Mrs. Blake," he said, his lips twisting into a smirk.

A sharp pain started in his chest. It hurt to hear her called by that name, though he would never admit it.

"So Veronica gets it too," Mordred said as though trying to remember something, "I'll help you personally with that, the capture I mean. She's all yours after that. But I want to be there when she's defeated and taken away. If I can't see her death than I can at least see fear and outrage."

Tossing the spancel down onto a table he walked outside. It wasn't far to go until he hit the night air. Mordred bent down and started to untie his shoes. Upon finishing he threw them over his shoulder. He cocked his head this way and that, twisting his toes into the muddy ground. Unlike Horvath the cold didn't seem to be bothering him in the slightest, probably due to having much less blood to chill.

He closed his eyes and Horvath stepped back. This was something he had seen practice on as well, and he didn't want to be too close when or if it succeeded that night. His question was soon answered. Two skeletons sprang up from the dirt, shaking their bones in the air. Flesh started to weave itself onto them, skin and clothes coming with black smoke that swirled around Mordred and the two of them.

Mordred stepped back and gave a broad smile.

"You know who I am, and how I have been working to make this happen. Apparently the flesh from that last sorcerer really hit the spot, or maybe it was his brain. Either way I'm in good form tonight," he said.

The two figures bowed. Mordred did a slight bow back at them.

"We can skip most of the formalities. I know who you are. Very good work from both of you I'd have to say. I believe you both know my second-in-command."

His fingers twitched. Horvath walked up and stood next to him. An accusatory finger was thrust at Horvath.

"My lord, this man is a betrayer! He sent me on a task and killed me upon its successful completion!"

"Oh Abigail, Abigail, Abigail, my dear not-so-sweet child," Mordred tsked, "You would've done the exact same thing in his place. That's what being a Morganian is all about, using opportunities to your advantage.

She tilted her head slightly.

"I'm sure it was nothing personal. It was a simple matter of what was needed. Besides, the Rising would've brought you back just the same. And it did in a way. I am, after all, the Rising personified. For your loyalty I'll give you your own little army, all subject to you."

Abigail said nothing, just continued to glare at Horvath. Mordred sighed and threw his hands up in the air.

"Kids these days, or those days, or whatever," he said, "Now you and Horvath are just going to have to play nice. There's no good in getting caught up with who killed who when we're all still alive. We must move on."

He smiled and gestured to the other figure.

"And Sun-Lok, nice bit with the dragon there."

There was a pause.

"I was complementing you," Mordred said.

There was nothing, just a blank stare. Curious now Mordred turned to Horvath, who had started to rub his temples in frustration.

"Does he speak English?" asked Mordred.

"No. He never left his home country before Balthazar imprisoned him. He only speaks Cantonese," replied Horvath.

"Well, translate it all for him then," he said, "Except the stuff to Miss Williams and the bit where I repeated things."

Horvath did as he was bid. The Chinese sorcerer bowed low and Mordred smiled.

"Keep translating Horvath, I was never particularly good with languages," he said.

For a response he nodded. Mordred cleared his throat.

"Now I know I can trust the two of you with something very important, very important indeed."


	33. Chapter 33

"Are you sure about that?"

"Positive."

Kate leaned back against the cold wall of the tunnel. She was itching for a cigarette, but those things tended to give away positions like no one's business. When you were meeting with your informants, people who risked their lives to give you information, you couldn't betray their trust like that.

She had contacted Balthazar again shortly after she had entrusted Excalibur to Dave. Her offer to help in any way she could without directly going against her Prime still stood, and her spy network was a good deal larger than any Balthazar could whip up in a hurry. However, her New York one consisted of only two or three highly useful people.

The man in front of her was her top informant, or was now her top informant anyway. He was lucky she'd been in town at the time. Most people would've thought he was dead and let him rot in a morgue or leave him to be buried alive. He was also insanely lucky that she believed in second chances. Not a lot of other people did.

He was her personal spy now, on the street despite still going through training. Not even Justin knew about him and Justin knew about all of her other informers. Well, maybe not all of them. With him though, she didn't feel like taking many chances. George knew, and some of the English Merlinians, but only because she'd needed their help. The complete magical makeover she'd given him, including the change on his aura had been difficult to do. Craig was also housing him in the times in between impersonating others, so it worked.

Kate only wished that she'd have gotten to him young. He had proved himself useful in the few short months he'd been working for her. He just needed some sort of guidance behind him, something that Morganians hadn't been known for. He'd needed dependability too, again something that they had in short supply. Well here she was to offer that. One day he might even be introduced to the rest, although she hoped it wouldn't be needed for the current crisis.

"Disappearances," he said, "It's very defin'tely not recruitment or something like that. Too random, too uneven, to bleedin' sparse. This Mordred guy is doin' some pretty wicked stuff here."

"Wicked sums it up," Kate agreed, pleased by his progress in evaluating situations, "But disappearances? Hm. It makes one think, it really does."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that Mordred's been snacking on citizens," she said, rubbing her chin with her hand, "And that's how he's been keeping it together, literally."

"Yeah, we know that sweetheart."

"Call me that again and I'll kill you."

"Ah, you know you like it."

"I don't. But I was thinking, what if he's refining his appetite?" said Kate, pushing away from the walls of the tunnel, "The Incantus never pegged him for much of a magic user, always left that to his mommy. And conjuring hellhounds like he did at the station was some pretty serious shit. Not something that makes me comfortable."

"Okay, I see your point there."

"And he has adapted to modern life pretty fast. The guy just seems totally at ease with everything."

"What are 'ya getting' at?"

"So I'm thinking he's absorbing more than nutrients from the people he eats."

There was a pause.

"You'll defin'tely want to be talking to Balthazar about that," he said, "As much as I think that's disgusting you've probably got a very good point."

"Probably?"

"Fine then. You've got a good but disgusting point."

"They're a lot of things about our job, and magic in general, that's disgusting," agreed Kate as she checked her watch, "We just need to learn to take control of it and not to let it wear us down."

Sighing she headed for the exit.

"I've got training with Ashley," she said, "But don't forget to come down here next week okay? Things get bad if you can't remember to meet me."

"I'll remember."

"Oh, and I know you hate the hair but don't try and dye it or anything."

"Craig ratted me out, dinnit he?"

"Of course. He reports to me. So no hair dye," she said, "No appeals on that sort of thing. You'll make yourself too recognizable and then you'll get yourself killed. Savvy?"

"Savvy, savvy."

"Good," said Kate as she walked out of the tunnel, "I wouldn't want anything to happen to the famous Drake Stone on my watch."

"Nothin' will luv.'

.

.

.

"**Oh, you're back."**

"_Good morrow, or is night?" _

"**I don't know. I'm asleep, remember?" **

"_Ah, I always enjoy your humor Taibreamh. You sound a little surprised to see me though." _

"**And here we go again with Taibreamh. Your nickname for me, I found out what it meant the other day."**

"_You learned Gaelic?"_

"**At my age? No."**

"_I wondered when you were going to say that. I had been talking to you for a minute or so and you hadn't mentioned it."_

"**Excuse me?"**

"_You bring up your age often."_

"**I'd enjoy using it to get my sleep. I need more at this age you know, that's what all those learned men are saying now. But back to the name. I used…a search and found out. Taibreamhm, dream. Really."**

"_I thought it suitable. Not creative but suitable. Your age means little though especially to people such as us."_

"**You're too young to know that it means quite a bit, although I am more fortunate than others my age. But like I said, I am far too old to be doing this at this point, something this complex."**

"_Apparently not."_

"**Well, of course not since you're here. But I am very old now. Things aren't as clear as they used to be."**

"_Are you trying to tell me something?"_

"**No. I haven't had any visions about that, thank God. But I know it's coming one day, that's all."**

"_I never thought it appropriate to ask, but is it common to be so old when you come from?"_

"**Oh, you're so subtle. But no, I've lived rather long even for now, and that's without the benefit of longevity spells."**

"_You say that like I'd know about them."_

"**I know you don't."**

"_Will I grow to be that old?"_

"**You know I can't tell you something like that. As much as I enjoy our little chats, they still don't make much sense and I don't want to rip the fabric of time by trying to make some small talk."**

"_I know, I know."_

"**I wish there was some more information on this."**

"_So do I, but keep in mind that we're the only ones powerful enough to be doing this. I mean, the Incantus would hardly mention something that only two people have ever done. It wouldn't be practical."_

"**Three. Three people have done it. And we believe that it is at a time of heightened emotions." **

"_Alright, three, and yes we do have an idea of how it can occur. But that's not the point. I mean, I've only done this a handful of times and it's taken so much out of me."_

"**You're still the strong receiver."**

"_And you're a good caller, but it doesn't happen often. And no matter how strong your signal you've only done this a grand total of five times. "_

"**Tonight makes five, yes."**

"_No, tonight is six."_

"**It's five."**

"_I count six. Once when I was eighteen, then when I was nineteen-"_

"**I never visited you when you were nineteen."**

"_Yes you did. You visited me one week before I made my escape to the forest Savauge, on the day it was decided."_

"…**I never did that."**

"_Are you sure Taibreamhm?"_

"**Very."**

"_But…they were like you in so many ways. Different, but I just chalked that up to the fact that you were younger."_

"**Younger? How young?"**

"_Perhaps twenty."_

"**It couldn't have been me then. The first time I cast I was twenty-seven. There was never a cast before that."**

"_Then who?"_

"**You said it was like me?"**

"_Yes."_

"**Then I think I know who it is. I….I…I had hoped…but I already knew really. Useless to fight these things. So useless. It explains why she had so much on her mind."**

"_So it's not a threat?"_

"**No, not at all. I do have a request to make though."**

"_Do."_

"**If it happens again, try and help. Try and figure out what's wrong and give her some support. She'll need it."**

"_Of course Taibreamhm, of course."_


	34. Chapter 34

"-it says here they do butter cream under the marzipan. That…I don't know what that means. Is marzipan like marchpane?"

"I don't know," admitted Becky, "What's marchpane?"

Veronica flipped a page in the catalogue. The two of them were waiting at the boutique they had purchased their dresses from. Veronica's final fitting for the dress was that day, and if nothing went wrong then they would be taking it home in time for the wedding in three weeks. Becky had had her final fitting the day before and now had the red dress in a bag on her lap, ready to be stored in her closet.

In the down time Veronica had come up with a few culinary questions for Becky, mostly over terminology. She seemed very interested in new cake creations, and had picked up several sample catalogues from local bakeries. Since it was to be a small affair Becky wondered why she didn't make it herself or with friends, but she had the feeling that Balthazar wanted the works and beyond for his bride.

"It's almond paste with sugar," she said, "We used to have it for dessert when I came from. It was much better than that disgusting wobbly material. I can't believe humans are still eating it."

"You mean jell-o?"

"That's it."

"Some things stick, for better or for worse. Nowadays it's not made completely of horse's hooves."

"But still some?"

"Yeah. But you're right, marchpane does sound a lot like marzipan," Becky said, eager to change the subject.

"I hate the things they call by new words," Veronica said in frustration, "Why isn't marchpane good enough anymore?"

"Beats me."

"And what's butter cream?" asked Veronica.

"It's kinda like rich, creamy frosting," she replied, "Remember that cupcake you bought from the bakery the other day? The blue stuff on top? That's it, but generally it's white."

"Hm, sounds safe enough," Veronica said, examining the page on the catalogue, "It's not meant to be a big cake you know, but just something pretty. Gluten-free so Dave can help eat it as well, and no chocolate for you."

"You don't have to-" started Becky.

"Oh come now," Veronica said, "I'm not having a wedding where people feel uncomfortable in eating the food. Besides, if it was chocolate I wouldn't be able to stop eating it. God knows I can't stay away from Hershey's."

She grinned before flipping another page.

"For the color motif I was thinking a kind of green-yellow and lilac for the sugar roses and decorations on the white."

"Why's that?" asked Becky.

Veronica blushed a little and looked down at her ring. The stone inside of it was a deep purple. When it lit up or glowed with magic though it would probably be more of a lilac color. Becky vaguely remembered that Balthazar's stone was a light green color. Understanding dawned and she smiled approvingly.

"Nice," she said.

"Veronica Hunt?" a woman called, pushing the curtain aside.

"Oh," Veronica said, laying the catalogue down again, "I'll be right back Becky."

"Take your time."

Becky watched as Veronica left. Her hands drummed against the armrests of her chair. There was a lot on her mind lately. Nothing had been heard of Mordred or Horvath since Halloween. She hadn't heard about Kate either since Dave had told her about receiving Excalibur, although she knew that she was still in contact with Balthazar. So it was all quiet on the western front.

The eastern front was rather different. Becky hadn't had a repeat of that odd dream, so she didn't understand why it was bothering her like it was. Sometimes she would start staring off into space and thinking about it, replaying it bit by bit, over and over. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen before and it was making her uncomfortable.

Not to mention she had never kept secrets from her grandmother, never. Growing up she had been Becky's best friend, mother, grandmother, and supporter. Her early crushes had been confided in her, her fears of her mother, the nightmares that came of both the silly and the serious. When she had started to go to college she had called every other day, upset to be in a major she didn't want in a strange place.

Keeping a secret from her had been unthinkable until she met Dave. Becky understood why she needed to keep silent, and was willing to do it. It felt wrong though, felt like she was lying to her somehow. Becky had no doubt that her grandmother would believe her about magic, or at least believe she believed in it. Still, she knew that she would have to keep the most radical changes in her life from the one person she had always turned to for advice.

Her thoughts were cut short when Veronica strode out of the dressing room. The long veil edged with lace she had picked out covered her head and reached down past her knees. Becky smiled and walked up to the display platform and watched as Veronica looked at herself in the mirror, every inch the bride.

"I think it looks even better than it did last time," Becky said approvingly.

"Balthazar's going to be surprised, certainly," she said, "He insists on not seeing the dress before the wedding, which is why I asked you to keep it at your house."

Becky nodded, recalling a conversation earlier when she had asked to do that.

"He's such a traditionalist."

"As long as Dave's there to put his jaw back when it drops than I think it's going to be fine," remarked Becky.

Veronica laughed and twirled around in the gown. There was nothing wrong so it was simply put it into a garment bag and given to her after a few minutes. The two women then walked out into the street. It had started raining and Becky was relieved that they had brought umbrellas. Walking in that weather was out of the question so Becky waved for a cab on the curb.

It was a few minutes before they actually managed to get one. The rain was starting to come down even harder and Becky prayed that the rain wouldn't get into the garment bags. By this time of the year it was normally snow that was everywhere, and the rain was strange. It certainly felt cold enough to snow but the rain never did freeze.

They paid the fare as they arrived at Becky's apartment. Both her and Veronica took off running when they saw the apartment in sight, but they were both drenched by the time they got in. Becky shivered and unlocked the door. Water was dripping off of their clothes onto the floor, but at least the garment bags had protected their precious cargo.

"Jill!" she called.

She turned on the light to find a note by her roommate on the fridge. Becky sighed.

"She's off with her latest boyfriend," she said, "Won't be back until tomorrow. At least she won't be around to see this mess."

"What mess?" asked Veronica.

Becky turned back to find that all of the water was gone. Veronica wiggled her fingers in order to show off her ring.

"Must be great to have that around the house," Becky said.

"There's a limit, but I know how to do a few things like that," replied Veronica, "Would you like me to dry your clothes for you?"

Her ring glowed lilac.

"No thanks," Becky said, "It's around six and I was considering turning in early anyway. I'll just change."

She looked out the window at the rain.

"You want to stay for a while? It's coming down pretty hard out there," Becky said, "Balthazar's training Dave so I don't think he'll be able to give you a ride. And I don't think we'll be able to get another cab at this hour."

"Hm…just until it lets up," Veronica said, a lilac glow surrounding her leaving only when she was dry, "I wouldn't want to be a bother."

"You're not, really," said Becky, meaning it, "I've got to go change. I'll be back in a minute."

Becky grabbed a white nightdress from her room and headed towards the bathroom. She hung the garment bag up in her bathroom closet so that the plastic could dry. After that she changed, dried off, and gave her hair a quick once-over with the hair dryer. When she came back to the living room Veronica had dried the garment bag and was fingering her dress.

"There's a spot in my closet we can use," Becky suggested.

Veronica nodded, smoothing the silk out before picking it up carefully. She hung it up with all the care of someone placing an infant in its cradle. Becky had to smile from that. Veronica had been, after all, waiting to marry Balthazar for a very long time. She had fallen for him sometime around Becky's own age from what she'd heard. Becky could only hope that she'd still be with Dave for even a fraction of the time that Veronica had loved Balthazar. A millennium was several lifetimes after all.

Returning to the living room Veronica slid down to the floor and stretched her legs. Becky did the same, resting one arm on the sofa.

"Any plans for Christmas?" she asked.

"A few last-minute touches for the wedding mostly," Veronica answered, "Oh, that and getting a tree. He's not exactly the type to sing carols."

She smiled.

"He thinks I don't know how to use a cam-er-a phone yet," she said, pulling one out of her pocket, "He'll be very surprised. I thought he needed to be a bit more festive."

Scrolling through it she pulled something up. Interested Becky leaned over her shoulder and had to stifle a giggle. Balthazar had fallen asleep in an arm chair and someone, she could only guess it was Veronica, had put a Santa hat on him. The giggle broke through and Veronica grinned before putting the phone away.

"He doesn't know it was taken," Veronica said, "But I plan on showing it to Dave next practice."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

The doorbell cut off Becky's reply. Veronica rose to get it but Becky shook her head.

"My place, I'll get it. Probably just Jill. She gets into fights with her boyfriends every two minutes."

She picked up a long coat and headed towards the door. Each button was buttoned before she unlocked it and opened the door. A greeting died on her lips when she saw a man dressed in a bowler hat and fur coat. Becky quickly tried to slam the door but was thrown back by an invisible force. Her head hit the wall hard and she collapsed into unconsciousness.


	35. Chapter 35

"Kate, you'll never guess what's going on."

Kate turned away from Drake's latest e-mail. He had missed another meeting and she was considering having Craig cut off his cable, only stopped by the fact that that would mean facing a surly Craig every day. She faced Ashley. The girl had been running for a little bit from her appearance and was obviously excited. Whatever it was had obviously interrupted her since she was still wearing her compound bow with a quiver of arrows.

"What is so important that you had to come into my office? Hm?" she asked.

"They're a few emissaries from Massachusetts here," Ashley answered, "They're talking to Justin right now. Something about the Prime Merlinian and all that jazz. The usual. Jack told me that Craig's in the room, but we think that you should be there too."

Sighing Kate got up and straightened herself out, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress that had accumulated with sitting. She was no good with politics, or so she preferred to believe, but she knew the importance of getting in touch with the right people. This meant that a good impression was needed.

Her shoulders squared and she strode across her office. With a flick of her ring she opened the doors to the lobby. Jack and Michael were sitting on a chaise there. As her door opened they got up and moved towards her. However, no sooner had she stepped outside the door than she bent over double, gagging.

"What is it?" asked Ashley.

"What is it? Seriously? Can't you smell that?" Kate shot back, "My god, it's rotten, it's decayed!"

Jack had moved fast and was only a few feet in front of her. Michael was a little slower and simply looking at her warily.

"I don't smell anything," Jack said.

"So it's not natural," she said.

Swallowing Kate looked around her. She moved her finger in the air before licking it. Almost immediately her gag reflex came back up.

"Someone's aura's putrid," she said, "But strong. I think it's an aura anyway, and one that smells like something crawled into the garbage…and died."

She stopped and tried to think. No, it couldn't be him. There was no way Mordred could get inside the Chrysler building; the wards were far too strong for that. In the very least the wards would issue a warning to them, so he couldn't be in there. Then again, that had been what they had thought about Horvath back in '39.

With apprehension in the pit of her stomach she tried to correctly and minutely read the aura. Every detail could matter in this situation. When she concentrated on it she could tell that it was different in many ways. Concentrating even further she saw that it was two different auras that were so alike that they gave the appearance of one. That wasn't good.

"Get your weapons out, ready your spells and shields," she said, trying to ignore the stomach-churning room, "Where are the twins?"

"Practice room I think. They've been doing those exercises Jack wrote for them," Michael said, confused, "Why-?"

"Just do it and trust me!" she snapped, "I don't think these people are emissaries from Massachusetts. At least the twins will be safe."

Her ring glowed as she approached the door to Justin's office. Ashley had nocked an arrow and Jack was forming a plasma bolt. Even Michael, who still looked like he didn't fully understand what was going on, had got a pretty good fire going in his hands. As for herself Kate was ready with a pushing force that should take care of any immediate attackers. Feeling prepared she flung open the doors.

Simply put, she was wrong. They weren't prepared for this. Not for Craig being throttled by a tall man and Justin held in place in the air by a woman. Both of the attackers turned when they came in, and the facades melted. Seconds before the attack came Kate was able to recognize them from the Incantus, Sun-Lock and Abigail Williams.

The force she had prepared was good for repelling Abigail's initial attack, but that was all. After that Kate found herself fighting against spells more complex than she had for a good sixty years. She fought back, but was woefully aware of the fact that both of the Morganians were more powerful than her.

.

.

.

As soon as Becky had been thrown back Veronica had risen from the floor to her feet. She'd thrown up a shield around herself and Becky's unconscious form, strengthening it in every way that she knew. Once that was done she knelt down by Becky and took her pulse, maintaining the shield. It was still strong, a good sign. Veronica looked back up again to glare at the man in the doorway.

Unperturbed by this Horvath walked into the apartment and delicately closed the door behind him. He gave Veronica a congenial smile as he walked inside.

"No need for the neighbors to hear," he said.

She didn't answer, just got to her feet, waiting for the attack. Horvath looked at her, cocking his head slightly.

"You look well."

Her fist clenched.

"No thanks to you," she said.

Horvath's face contorted.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Don't play innocent. You would've had me as Morgana's vessel," she sneered, "Too bad that didn't work out."

"Morgana would've found a way to get her body back in time," he said slowly, "I wouldn't have let that happen to you."

He smiled again and she felt nauseous.

"I don't want you saving me," said Veronica.

"You might one day," he shrugged.

The jewel in his can glared brightly and smashed into her shield. To her horror the shield started to crack, sapping away her strength with it.

"I've gotten stronger over the years Veronica," he said, "So much stronger. Mordred was good enough to give me a spell that makes my combatants weaker each time they attack, saps them of their energy as they struggle. It would be better for you to just give up."

In response she blasted a wave of fire towards him from behind her shield, knowing that she was expending too much energy. The feeling of weakness was immediate and she knew he'd been telling the truth. He swatted the fire away with his cane, never losing his look of gentle amusement. It was an odd look, one that terrified her for reasons unknown. It was like he knew she'd fight and he knew he'd win.

He sent another force against her shield. This time it wasn't alone. Mordred had walked up behind Horvath and had casually sent more energy careening towards her. The shield exploded into shards of lilac and Veronica dropped to the floor, panting heavily. Horvath's cane caught her under the chin and lifted her head upwards.

"Where is he now?" he asked gently, "Where's the one you always thought was better than me?"

She spat at him, struggling to get to her feet. Sighing Horvath tapped her on the head with his cane. Her limbs lost what little strength they had and she fell to the floor, limp. Mordred started clapping a little as Horvath knelt by her. He still looked amused, although she could feel the triumph pouring off of him.

"He's not here Veronica, he's not here to help you," he said, "The only one here now is me."

.

.

.

Lacy awoke and yawned. She had been dozing on her couch with Dorothy curled up at her feet. Sitting up she stretched. She'd started to fall asleep on her couch more and more these days, these days meaning the days since Robin had died. It had been so hard to sleep in the master bedroom once he had gone. Most of the time she just slept in a guestroom.

However, the couch was an old favorite. It was a useful place to be, easy to hear if Becky had been having nightmares when she was little. After the first few times she had at least had the foresight to put a blanket there to keep her warm. In fact it was getting a little chilly now. The fire had died down and it was December. She groped around in an attempt to find it.

An odd but familiar tingly feeling started in the tips of her fingers and stabbed straight to her brain. Her eyes flooded completely with gold and she clutched at her head. Dorothy whined and then abruptly started to growl. Lacy, oblivious to this, dug her fingers into her scalp until they drew blood.

"No," she moaned, "Nononononono**NO**."

Her feet stumbled over the couch edge. She reeled from the vision and the weakness caused by it. It didn't matter to her though. Lacy needed to get to a phone as soon as possible. She had to call…no, she didn't know his number. Then she would have to call her, convince her that this was important by any means possible.

Finding the phone she picked it up, nearly dropping it in her haste. Her hands were slippery with sweat and her nervousness wasn't making things any easier. She felt for the numbers engraved on the buttons and punched in the correct numbers. Lacy could only pray that she was too late, and that Bianca would pick up as soon as possible.

After it rang for the longest time the call was picked up.

"This had better be good," Bianca said on the other end.

Lacy was briefly treated to the image of magic flying everywhere in what had once been her father's office. Still, it wasn't important enough right now and could wait.

"Bianca," Lacy said urgently, "I need Balthazar's number if you have it."

"Kinda busy now Lacy!" she shot back.

"You don't understand!" Lacy said, "I need it now!"

There was a pause and some cursing.

"822-942-09," Bianca rattled off, "A seer's version of 'need' gets priority. And when Balthazar's done with whatever it is you need him to tell him to get his ass over here! Can't believe I didn't think of this before."

"Thank you," said Lacy, "Oh, Bianca, Sun-Lok never figured out how to do vacuum spells, and Abigail reacts slower to attacks on her left side."

"Thanks."

There was a click. Lacy hung up the phone before picking it up again and redialing. She had to call the number twice before it was picked up.

"Who is this?" demanded Balthazar.

"It's Lacy," she said hurriedly, "And before you ask anything, you and your apprentice need to get to 361 Evergreen Apartments. **Immediately**. You can't teleport there though, a magical shield's been erected around it, made specifically to cut off teleportation."

"I think…yes…that's Becky's apartment. Why-?"

"Balthazar, when a seer says 'immediately' she means it!" hissed Lacy, "Bianca knows this, and so should you. In this case immediately means if you don't get down there right now then she'll die!"

The reply was immediate.

"We're on it."


	36. Chapter 36

Becky found herself dreaming of a dark forge. She recognized one of the two men standing there from her earlier dreams. He was murmuring to the other man, around five years younger than himself. Their words were somewhat indistinguishable, although the man she recognized was tracing what looked like one of Dave's magic circles into the table's wood with the tip of his finger.

Next to him a blonde boy peered over his shoulder, looking perhaps nine or ten. Becky hadn't seen him before, but she had the feeling that he'd been the boy who had been sleeping in the room. The older of the men smiled and picked him up so he could better see. The boy laughed as he was lifted up.

The door opened to the room opened and both men and the boy turned. A woman walked inside and the unknown man bowed to her in respect. Beck knew she'd been the woman from her old dream, only her hair was pulled back now. Somehow she looked older, but it was hard to tell since it appeared that her hair had always been white.

The boy wriggled out of the older man's arms. He set him down and the boy ran to her side.

"My Lady," the younger man said, remaining with his head bowed.

"Please," she said, waving it away, "You've been friends with my husband for far too long."

"This is the first time I've met your acquaintance," he said nervously, getting up.

She smiled at him and the man flushed. The woman's husband looked at him and the man quickly looked away.

"I am aware of the political situation," he said, "But you have to understand that most of the court believes the boy to be dead."

The child at her side looked up. She shrugged.

"A necessary precaution," she said, "There are far too many out there who would seek his life. He was nearly killed when he was four."

"We know that Sir Gaunt disappeared in his search," he said tentatively.

"He attempted to kill him in my absence," the woman's husband said, "If my wife had not risked herself than England would have no future."

"Is this true?" he asked.

She drew the boy closer to her.

"Yes, but he's fine now," she said, "He grows stronger each day."

One hand ruffled the boy's hair which he playfully shoved off. Her other hand was squeezed quickly by the man and she smiled. The hand moved a little and she frowned. Turning herself around she took two steps towards where Becky was. She cocked her head and assumed a sympathetic look.

"You're in trouble, aren't you?" she asked, "Trapped? Don't worry, be strong. Like me, your time is coming."

Becky weakly opened her eyes. Horvath was leaning against the wall, deep in conversation with Mordred.

"I told you you'd need that spell," Mordred said, "Probably need it for Balthazar and the Prime too."

He laughed.

"Powerful innit she?"

"She was the best apprentice," Horvath said quietly, "She learned the quickest. She was practically his daughter."

"One more reason to hate her," said Mordred, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "But hurry up with the spancel."

Shaking his head Horvath took something thin and clear from his pocket. He ran it through his fingers, staring at the couch. Becky's eyes roved in that same direction until she saw Veronica. She was unconscious on the couch, her long hair spilling over the armrest. She had been laid there with some care.

Horvath moved towards her and Becky started to push herself upwards. Mordred looked at her and tapped Horvath on the shoulder.

"Oh dear. Put the spancel away for a minute Horvath, the Prime Paramour is up and active," he smirked.

She had just managed to get into a sitting position when Horvath's cane started to glow blue. Becky felt frightened, but only for a moment. She remembered what the woman in her dream had said and tried to be strong, but she was scared. When she had been captured the first time she had been assured that she wouldn't be hurt, not yet anyway. Now though, there was no hesitation.

"No," said Mordred.

He waved his hand and Becky felt her muscles freeze.

"What?" asked Horvath.

"We need to keep leave her alive Horvath," Mordred explained, "How else will they find out what happened? We need them to know that we came here and that this was us. Otherwise it's just...inelegant."

"Of course they'd know it was us. Who else would do this?" argued Horvath.

"Look," Mordred said impatiently, "I know this girl humiliated you at Battery Park. Kicked over a satellite. A satellite that you really should've had some protection spells over might I add."

Wincing Horvath turned away.

"And I'm all for getting those who humiliated me so I know your pain," Mordred said, stroking a thin white scar, "But remember that I was willing to make an exception. And also keep in mind that we have a tight schedule."

Horvath opened his mouth to speak, but Mordred glared at him. He shook his head once before striding over to her. One of his large hands grasped her neck. She gasped for breath and he slammed her head into the wall. Dizzy she looked up at him, still trying to steady her breathing.

"Now, Becky is it?"

She just stared at him, still scared.

"Oh, who cares? Now my esteemed overlord here tells me that we shouldn't kill you-" he said.

"I have a thing for blondes," added Mordred helpfully.

"-so I need you to listen," Horvath said, "You can listen, can't you?"

Becky glared at him.

"Good disposable little girl," he said, "Now, remember what happened with Abigail? All that we-won't-kill-you-just-yet? We're not going to do that again. You'll live this time, no threats of being fed to the cat. We're leaving you as a messenger."

"So I heard," she snapped, finding courage from somewhere, "What are you doing to Veronica?"

Horvath smirked.

"Hm. Where did she get the necklace from?" he asked, ignoring her question.

Becky struggled to make her expression look confused. She was powerless but wasn't about to let him do something to the necklace her friend cherished so much.

"She…bought it at a flea market…a month ago?" she said, hoping that she seemed like someone trying to remember something, "Why?"

"…no reason," said Horvath, "Now then we're going to go. And she's going to come with us, and she'll be **staying** with us. Tell that to Balthazar and young Dave that when you see them next."

She looked at him in disgust. This was too much.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He raised his eyebrow, but Becky somehow decided to press on.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked, "Never get dumped before?"

Mordred stifled a chuckle as Horvath's face turned red.

"Oh no, sorry," she heard herself say, "To get dumped you'd have to have a relationship first. Get over yourself."

Horvath smacked her before getting to his feet. Her head spun from the force of the blow.

"Watch your tongue."

"She's funny," laughed Mordred, "I quite like her."

He knelt down and his hand clamped itself around her mouth.

"I keep saying I have a thing for blondes. Perhaps I should explain. I have a thing for killing blondes. So pretty with their golden hair," he said, "It's a wonderful stimulant really. Could just watch your face turn red and then let the air drain out of your lungs slowly until you go limp all day every day. You're a meaningful death too which is a bonus."

Emboldened by the dream, and disgusted by the feel of his clammy hand on her skin, she bit him. He howled and her head hit the wall harder than anything she'd ever felt before. Her body slumped downwards. Breathing furiously Mordred released her and moved away. Becky slid down to the floor, laying still.

Blinking Horvath crouched down next to her.

"Didn't mean to do that. Zoned out for a bit as they say. Did I render the little magonisi unconscious?" asked Mordred.

Horvath paused and checked her pulse.

"No. I'm afraid you killed her."

Incredulous Mordred approached. He took her pulse and turned her head over. Blood was coming from the back of it, mingling with her hair. Sighing he got up.

"Yes, yes, I heard you! Humans are fragile, **fragile**!" he said, "I know I've got to learn to use a gentle hand damn it!"

He started stroking his scar.

"Yes it's understood."

He shrugged and shook his head.

"Ah well. No use crying over spilt milk," he said, "And I suppose that a dead body is as good a calling card as any, although not very explicative. Might want to leave a message too though."

Shaking his head again he walked over to the wall. His fingers traced out words on the wall. It cracked under his touch and the words showed black in the plaster. He finished up and wiped his hands on his shirt. Gesturing towards Veronica he said;

"Suitably cryptic. Now get her and let's go. We'll leave the door off the hinges for dramatic effect. And Horvath?"

"Yes?" he asked as he started to pick up Veronica.

"Careful," he said, smirking a little at Becky's, "You're all such perishable goods."


	37. Chapter 37

Lightning crackled through the air. Sweat dripped into Kate's eyes as she tried to maintain her shield.

"Is that the best you can do?" asked Abigail sweetly.

"Bite me," Kate snapped.

Abigail became confused just long enough for Kate to pull books forward in the air and throw them at her. One almost hit before it was incinerated.

"Boring," Abigail said.

She looked thoughtfully over where the rest of the group was battling Sun-Lok. Justin was unconscious but Craig had rallied magnificently and joined them. Kate had commanded them to leave her to her battle, knowing that together they stood a chance of bringing Sun-Lok down. She thought she'd had a shot at Abigail. Apparently she'd been wrong.

"Looks more interesting over there," she said, nodding her head towards Kate.

Before Kate could throw up her shield again she was knocked back into a bookcase. Her arms felt like lead and she had trouble blinking.

"Kate!" Ashley cried.

"Eyes forward!" snapped Kate, "I'm not going to die here."

"What makes you so certain?" Abigail frowned, looking irritated, "I'm still standing you know."

"Pfft," Kate said, "Destiny for one. That and it takes a lot more than you to kill me. John Steed didn't train no sissies."

Abigail's eyes flashed. She pulled a knife out of one of her pockets.

"You don't even get a magical death for your insult," she snapped.

Unimpressed Kate answered;

"You've got a knife? Who in their right mind gives a ten-year-old a knife?"

"I'm fifteen!"

"Liar."

Face turning scarlet Abigail approached. The door to the lounge opened and she twisted her head to look.

"'ello, missed the meeting so I thought that I'd-bleedin' hell!"

Drake Stone looked around the room in amazement.

"Some party you're having 'ere."

Never one to miss an opportunity Kate lashed out with her foot on Abigail's left side. She made sure that her stiletto heel caught Abigail in the throat. It twisted around her necklace and Kate pulled backwards directly after kicking her. The combined force knocked her backwards and broke the thin chain that the pentagram pendant rested on. The pendant flew into the air.

"Take that you little brat!" she snarled as she felt the bonds restraining her slacken.

Scrambling Abigail tried to get to her feet and her conductor but Drake casually placed a foot over her necklace.

"Horvath killed me to get you out you know," he said, "Or most o' me anyway. Doesn't look like 'e had much need of you either."

Before she could reply Kate had hurried over and punched her in the face. Abigail went down, unconscious. Breathing hard Kate snapped to Drake;

"Interesting timing. Now go get the twins. They're in the practice room. Tell them to get the black mirror and bring it in here, but to be careful with it."

She looked back at where the rest were fighting Sun-Lok. They were all using fire on her express commands, and he was weakening. Thank you Lacy.

"We're gonna need it," she said before hurrying to join the fight.

.

.

.

The car hurtled through the streets. Nothing stopped it, not stoplights, pedestrians, or even other cars. Dave wondered why this was happening to him again, and also if the seatbelts would hold if the car crashed at its current speed of 100+ miles an hour. With some foresight Balthazar had turned the car into a taxi to not stand out.

Still wondering if he was going to survive Dave risked a glance at the back seat. Excalibur rattled around there, hastily thrown in since he thought he might need it. Dave didn't want to contemplate what would happen if that got out of its sheath during the imagined crash. That thing cut through stone like butter.

"Balthazar, what's going on?" asked Dave.

Balthazar turned a corner sharply, nearly flipping the vehicle on its side. Dave's fingers dug into the dashboard for a grip.

"I told you," he said.

"You said we need to get to Becky's apartment," answered Dave, feeling as though he was about to be sick, "You never said why."

Never taking his eyes off the road Balthazar said;

"It's her grandmother. An emergency."

Dave felt himself go pale. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes for a minute, trying to clear his head of the insane driving of the man next to him.

"Is she dead?" he asked.

The car turned another corner

"And why is that your first conclusion?" Balthazar asked.

"Well, it's just…she's so old and she's living by herself," Dave said, surprised, "If it's an emergency I just assumed. She seemed alright at Thanksgiving, but accidents around the house do happen-"

"It'd take much more than a household accident to kill John Steed's girl," snorted Balthazar.

Last week Dave had reached the 1920's in his Incantus. The name John Steed had been mentioned so often that it had stuck in his mind. He recalled a picture of the man holding a small child in the Incantus, and the names John and Lacy Steed under it. He hadn't thought much of it since Lacy was such a common name. Now though…

Feeling as though his insides were churning from the car ride and his head from the new information he said;

"I think you should probably start at the beginning."

"Probably."

.

.

.

Kate dragged Abigail towards the front of the room. She was regaining consciousness, so they'd have to act fast. Tabitha and Julian stood there waiting, holding the black mirror between them. She pushed Abigail forwards and she was sucked inside while uttering a not-very-puritanical curse. Jack put his hands over Julian and Tabitha's ears, but from their grins Kate could tell they had already heard.

Wiping sweat from her forehead Kate flopped back on the ruined couch. It wasn't enough that they had just defeated two of the most dangerous Morganians in history. After that they'd had to laboriously drag them into a mirror. Sun-Lok was much heavier than he looked. It was enough to drain anyone.

Still, she felt a good deal of pride in what they'd accomplished. Only New York Merlinians could have done it. Not to mention none of them, not even her, had even seen their first century yet. Now was time for some well-deserved rest. Just as she had started to close her eyes and consider a nap Justin was revived on the other end of the room.

"What happened?" he demanded.

Rolling her eyes Kate explained. He looked at the mirror.

"We're going to have to make necessary arrangements for that," he said, "Perhaps lock it away somewhere secret."

"And have some ignorant apprentice find it in a few years and accidentally free them?" Kate snapped, "I don't think so."

"Oh?" Justin said, turning around on her, "Then what do you suggest?"

Just when she was about to answer her phone rang. Cursing she picked it up.

"Kate Falstaff here, and for the record it is a really really **really **bad time right now," she said tiredly, "Just want you to know that. Now I can't be held responsible for anything I say."

"Sorry to disturb you. It's Lacy again," Lacy said on the other end, her voice a little high-pitched, "You need to get over to 361 Evergreen Apartments right now."

"One sec," answered Kate before pulling the phone away and saying, "Gotta go."

"Oh no you don't," Justin said, "You're helping clean up first."

"Clean up?" she said, "Says the guy who spent the whole battle in Snoozeville?"

Justin turned red and Tabitha began to giggle.

"That's a direct order as your Prime," he snapped.

She felt her muscles tense, but she said nothing. She couldn't disobey direct orders without challenging his position.

"Sorry honey," she said on the other end, "I have to stay here."

"No, no you don't," Lacy answered, hysteria creeping into her voice, "You need to take Tabitha and Julian and get down there."

"Lacy I can't," explained Kate, "It's orders."

"Defy them!"

"Calm down," Kate said, shocked that her soft-spoken sister/cousin-in-law was becoming so violent, "It can't be that important."

"Of course it's important!" Lacy wailed, "It's my granddaughter! The last vision I had she was in danger! Please!"

Kate felt herself go numb. Lacy's granddaughter. Robin's granddaughter. Danger. The words danced across her head. Any protestations she had were swept away. She couldn't be selfish anymore, not when his granddaughter was on the line. It was her blood, one of her last relatives. She wouldn't see them harmed at any price.

"I'm on it," she answered.

Folding up her phone she turned to go out.

"Where do you think you're going?" Justin hissed.

"316 Evergreen Apartments," she said, "Julian, Tabitha, come on."

The twins moved to obey.

"No you don't!" shrieked Justin.

Whirling around she punched him in the nose. The bones broke and he hit the floor. Kate strode towards him. She felt like the years she'd acquired as Kate melt away, all that she'd seen. She felt like Bianca again, a young sorcerer who wasn't going to take anything, who might one day be New York's first woman Prime. Kneeling down she grabbed his chin and forced his head up at her so that he looked.

"I'm going to go save John Steed's great-granddaughter," she said, "Try to stop me and I swear I'll kill you you miserable excuse for a Prime."

"That's…a…a…challenge," he muttered.

"I know," she said.

"Challenge to my…authority…my seat…"

"I know," she repeated, "And I don't want to be Prime and I know you know that. But what you don't know is that it doesn't matter what I want anymore. Right now I'm challenging you. So either on your feet and fight me or surrender your title."

Justin looked at the other sorcerers, but Kate knew they wouldn't help him. She'd trained most of them after all.

"…surrender…" he murmured.

"Good boy," she said, dropping his head and getting to her feet.

Breathing deeply she said;

"Everyone's coming with me. Leave him to heal his own nose."

They moved uncertainly. Squaring her shoulders she said;

"I'm Prime Bianca Kate Lawrence. And we're going downtown. Understand?"

There was a chorus of enthusiastic agreement.


	38. Chapter 38

Balthazar knew that things were wrong the moment they got to the apartment. The stink of the magic hit him on the staircase, both the putrid aura and the familiar one. It was so strong that even Dave, who hadn't gotten that far in his training to know how to sense auras, looked nauseous from it. Horvath and Mordred. They had both been here, and at the same time too from the feel of things.

He didn't take his time after that. Balthazar bolted up the steps, leaving Dave behind. Seeing his master running Dave had started to as well, but he was weighed down by Excalibur. That and the fact was that no one could run as fast as Balthazar. Not when he knew without a doubt that something had happened to Veronica. That was why he reached the apartment first minutes before Dave did.

That was why he was alone when he saw that the door was off its hinges, laying in splinters all along the hallway. His heart sunk but he continued to move quickly, if not mechanically. If the door had been left like that then there was little chance that Veronica and Becky were still there.

Everything in him froze and crumbled at the thought of his former friend and the psychotic prince holding Veronica, but still he barreled onwards. Balthazar knew that he had to keep it together. He had not fought over a millennia to be with her to let her be snatched away on the eve of their wedding.

This feeling shoving the others out of the way he strode into the apartment. So far he knew the who, but not the why. The only thing for him to do was to start looking for clues. Balthazar stared ahead of him and stopped almost immediately. One the walls, scratched into the plaster, were the dark words;

_Ego puto incendia est emanio_

"I believe the fire is spreading," he murmured, "Stop writing in Latin Mordred. The language is as dead as you."

He'd have to use that insult at him when the time came. For now he needed to figure out what Mordred was trying to tell him. Those words were familiar and they sounded suitably ominous for such an occasion. Balthazar didn't think he was quoting anyone though. It wasn't his style.

Then he remembered. Those were the words spoken on the night of Letholdus' death so very long ago. He had spoken it of Guinevere's quarters, but he had meant so much more. His reign of terror had begun shortly after that. Mordred knew he'd recognize this. He had wanted him to know they'd been there, that they planned to do something unspeakable, or had already done something. The possibilities of what he could've done were endless.

Veronica was nowhere in sight, but with a heavy heart he had known to expect that. Mordred hated her for the scar she'd give him. However, there was hope. As much as Balthazar hated Horvath he did believe that he still loved Veronica. He wouldn't let anything harm her, not for awhile anyway. It was cold comfort to know that but at least she was alive somewhere. He'd find her before she became otherwise.

He snapped his fingers and blue coated the apartment. Balthazar saw some brief replay of what had happened. Not for the first time he had to restrain himself from attempting to intervene in a replay. It was just an echo of events; the time when he could've done something was long gone. Achingly he saw Veronica knocked out and placed on the couch. Horvath had done it with gentle movements.

"The cemetery's quiet this time of night, which is good," Mordred had said, "She'll need to remain asleep for awhile you know."

"Who knows?" Horvath had said, "She was strong."

"You're telling me."

"I did."

"Know what I told you?"

"Do say."

"I told you you'd need that spell," Mordred said, "Probably need it for Balthazar and the Prime too."

Balthazar continued watching until they decided to use Becky as a messenger before switching it off. He needed to conserve his strength and he felt like he'd heard enough. The cemetery. Whatever reason they were there he could track them. They were probably expending huge amounts of energy. He'd be able to find them.

Breathing in again Balthazar started to take the apartment in in its entirety. He knew now that at least Becky was still there, and that was good. Once he looked hard enough he could see a foot sticking out from behind an armchair. He extended his hand and levitated the armchair away. Becky was there with no visible marks on her, just unconscious.

At first he was relieved. Becky would be one less person to worry about. He would be able to fully concentrate on getting Veronica back without being guiltily aware of her missing as well. Then he noticed something was wrong. She lay at awkward angles, her blonde hair spilling out beneath her. Her eyes were open, but she wasn't looking at anything. Looking harder he could see the blood coming from beneath her head.

Balthazar felt a pain in his chest. Fingers trembling he snapped them. The spell didn't take this time and he swallowed to clear his mind. He did again so as to see the rest of the previous replay. It all flashed before him. Becky's words, her lies for Veronica, her defiance, Mordred losing his temper, and the end result. Moaning he swatted the replay away from him but it did nothing to change the events he'd seen.

He hadn't known Becky very well at all, but she was Lacy's granddaughter. He'd hoped that she and Dave would work out simply because of how violently they seemed to be in love. From the little other facts he knew about her she'd been a girl struggling with her family and school. Not the kind of girl who had this coming to her.

Slowly Balthazar turned away from Becky's remains. She hadn't deserved to die, not at all. It was made all the worse because Mordred had no real motive, had called it spilt milk. She was so young too, only twenty. It wasn't the age to die. Making his hand into a fist he leaned his forehead into it and closed his eyes. He needed to somehow block out the image of those terrible, staring eyes that saw nothing.

Heavy footfalls resounded outside of the door and broke his reverie. Balthazar's eyes snapped open. Someone was coming. Dave. Dave was coming. God in heaven, he couldn't come, couldn't see this. This would kill him. He couldn't let him see her like that, needed to clean up the blood and close the eyes for decency's sake-

"Balthazar?"

It was too late. Dave came in through the door, saw the words, and started. He opened his mouth to ask a question, probably what they meant. His eyes fell on Becky first though and his mouth shut abruptly. Excalibur slipped out of his hands and clattered on the floor. One of his feet moved forward but he stopped himself. For a minute Balthazar didn't dare breathe, not at what was happening.

With ponderous movements Dave moved past Balthazar and towards her. He sank down on his knees with the same kind of movements. His fingers reached forward before hesitantly drawing them back several times. Finally he touched her cheek lightly. As though in a trance Dave said;

"She's cold."

Balthazar didn't reply. There was nothing he could say to that.

"Why are her eyes open, do you think?" he said, "Did it catch her by surprise or was it the shock to the head? I think it's correctly termed head trauma."

"Dave-" tried Balthazar.

"She painted her fingernails," Dave interrupted absently, "Probably just getting ready for bed."

He gave a choked laugh and picked up one of her hands.

"I always wondered why she did that, paint her nails I mean," he said, "I asked her once. She said she liked the different colors. It never made much sense to me but she always told me I had no fashion sense. She was probably right."

Slowly he slid his arm under her neck and lifted her upwards. He held her in a way that her head lolled onto his chest, holding her close. One of his arms supported her. The other one went for her face. With great care he closed the eyes and brushed loose strands of hair back. It was like he was afraid he'd break her, although they both knew that no further harm could come to her. Without looking away he asked;

"Which one?"

"Dave-" started Balthazar again.

"I didn't ask my name. I asked which one did it?" asked Dave, "I know you know. Tell me."

Balthazar started to form an answer but bit it back. He hesitated, wondering what to do in the situation. Nothing had quite prepared him for this. He of all people knew what the need for revenge could do to a person. It could drive them mad, eating them from the inside. That was the last thing he wanted for Dave.

On the other hand he had the right to know. Becky's grandmother would be the only other person who had the right, and here he was asking for it. Balthazar couldn't even begin to understand what it was he was going through. If he had lost Veronica, and the realization that he still could was there, then he knew he'd want to know. He knew why he would to, and he knew he had to tell him.

"Mordred," Balthazar said.

Dave nodded as though he'd expected this. He looked around the apartment.

"Was Veronica here too?" he asked.

Balthazar nodded mutely.

"We've got to save her then, can't let anything happen to her," Dave said, "Maybe we should call Kate and the others, get a wider scope of the area. They may know something we don't after all."

He didn't nod this time, just looked at his young apprentice warily. There was something oddly distant and business-like about him, as though he were reciting lines from a strange play. No, more like being controlled by invisible strings. Even his movements were jerky like that of a puppet's.

"So we should start the search, sound the alarm, call the troops to battle, sally forth," said Dave, "Got to save her."

Once more he fell silent.

"But…but first…first…before we…" he paused, "Before we go I…I need…I need a moment…"

Balthazar nodded again, this time with a touch more agreement. Without further preface Dave buried his head in the crook of Becky's neck and began to cry. His hands were tangled in her hair, pulling her so close to him that Balthazar could only hear the sobs. Soon it sounded more like small screams than sobs though. Minutes passed this way, Balthazar feeling worse for him with each passing second.

Moving forward he placed his hand on Dave's shoulder. It wasn't much comfort, but he knew that any larger gesture was likely to be repudiated or seem wrong. The sobs stopped and Dave looked up. His expression was dark, made all the more terrible by his red-rimmed and sadness-filled eyes.

"I'm going to kill him," he said fiercely, "I'm going to kill him."


	39. Chapter 39

Kate hurried up the steps to the apartment, wishing that her footwear wasn't so cramped. The rest of the Merlinians followed close behind her, Jack and Ashley staying outside the building to guard it like they'd been ordered. She'd ordered Drake to stay at the Chrysler Building. She wasn't about to let the mission get complicated if Balthazar and/or Dave recognized him.

As for the rest, they followed her up but couldn't keep up. Craig couldn't even come close. Too much computers and not enough exercise. She went so fast that she nearly ran smack into Balthazar on his way down the stairs. Kate ground her feet into the stairs to stop from a collision. He looked at her with dull surprise.

"So Lacy got in touch with you. Great," she said, relieved "That little game of telephone was getting pretty confusing from my end."

"She told you to come too?" Balthazar asked blankly.

"Abigail Williams and Sun-Lok attacked the Chrysler Building, we would've come sooner otherwise," Kate replied, "Lots happened after that…it's taken care of now. You're looking at New York's new Prime."

He nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"So what happened here?" she asked.

Balthazar fixed her with a tired look.

"She's dead."

Kate breathed in sharply.

"I…" she said, working around the words, "I couldn't have heard you right-"

"Don't be stupid. Of course you did," he snapped, "She's gone, a blow to the head. Horvath and Mordred came. Happened around twenty minutes ago. By the time we arrived we were too late."

Kate grasped for the handrail to keep herself upright. Craig, Michael, and the twins watched her, unsure of what was happening.

"That…she…she…young…besides Lacy…she was my only relative…I just found out she lived in the city tonight," she said softly, "Robin's own blood and I never said a word to her…never met her-"

"You met her," sighed Balthazar, "I didn't want to tell you while she was alive; security. That and Lacy didn't want to so I felt it wasn't my place."

He rubbed his chin.

"What are you saying?" asked Kate, although she had a bad feeling.

"Her full name is…**was**…Rebecca," he said, "But everyone called her Becky."

"Oh God," moaned Kate, grasping the handrail with both hands now.

"Don't fall apart," Balthazar said sharply, "Veronica was with her."

She blearily raised her eyes upwards.

"Veronica," she repeated.

"Yes. They took her and we need to find her," he said, "I've got some leads but nothing huge."

Kate blinked, taking a deep breath in. Mastering her emotions she said;

"How…how's Dave?"

"So broken he's standing up," Balthazar answered, "He's angry now, furious. But he needs to be angry. You know how it is."

"I do," she said, swallowing hard, "The New York Merlinians will of course aide you in this venture out of duty and…and…in the name of justice in the city. Michael, Jack, and…oh Ashley, Ashley too."

"The apprentice?"

"She's ready. They're all ready. They've been fighting Morganians for so long. They can go with you. The twins aren't combat ready. Good at what they do but they're so young. I don't want them to get involved unless they have to."

"Fine."

"Craig will need to clean this up," continue Kate, trying hard to be business-like, "and they can help. He can establish a tech base too for support. He's already in constant contact with the others and monitoring New York, so it shouldn't be too much work."

Kate turned to him.

"Think you can do it?" she asked.

"If it's got Wi-Fi I can rig up anything," Craig answered.

Swallowing hard she looked at the door.

"We can make it look like it was a break in, or something. Keep the NYPD in the dark. I…I should stay too."

"Don't think so," answered Balthazar, "We'll need you for this. You're the strongest of them."

"Lacy is going to ask about her," she said, waving away his protestations, "When I tell her…I want to be able to say that…that a relative got things in order for her. It should help. I'll join after I'm done."

Balthazar shook his head.

"Join if you can but we're not waiting up," he said, "There's been one death tonight and I'll be damned if there's another."

Kate nodded in understanding.

"Dave?" Balthazar called.

He came out of the apartment. Balthazar had made an understatement when he said broken. Shattered would be better, but glued together by fury. Both his hands clutched Excalibur and he looked past them all. Kate didn't know exactly how the night would end, but it wouldn't be pretty.

From the look on his face Balthazar was thinking the same thing. However, he didn't say anything to his apprentice. Kate didn't either, what could she say? Everyone in the room could tell that he had murder on his mind. She could feel the twins sink behind her, a little scared and trying to hide. Craig breathed in and Michael swallowed. He was the one to find his tongue first though.

"Ashley and Jack are waiting downstairs," Michael said, "We're going with you Prime Merlinian."

Dave blinked and looked around him like he didn't know who he was. The dark look came back as quickly as it had fled though.

"Thanks," he said, "Come on Balthazar. We've got to get Veronica."

.

.

.

Veronica felt like her head was full of cotton. Everything was fuzzy and it took great concentration for her to remember enough to be worried. With great difficulty she pushed herself upwards. Chains clanked as she moved. She tried a small spell to break them, but found it repelled violently. So they were enchanted.

"You're awake. Good."

She turned around and saw Horvath sitting at the other end of the room. He was in a chair and looking speculative.

"Where's Becky?" she asked coldly.

Horvath sighed.

"I'm afraid she made Lord Mordred rather angry," he said, "If she could've kept that magonisi mouth of hers shut than she would still be alive. I never pegged her for a mouthy one, but apparently things changed."

Her fist clenched.

"You killed her."

"No, I didn't. He did."

"But you didn't help her, didn't feel like it was worth it I'll bet," she snapped back, "So you killed her too. She was only twenty years old, twenty and a good friend to me. Becky couldn't do magic, stayed with us because she was in love and determined to fight. A good woman displaced into a strange world she didn't belong."

Veronica fought back tears. She wasn't going to let him see her cry.

"But what do you care?" she finished bitterly.

"I care," he said, a tightness in his jaw appearing, "I care about anything that makes you upset."

"Horvath, stop pretending you're in love with me," she snarled, "Whatever you're feeling right now, it's not love."

Angrily he got up and shoved his chair away from him. It crashed into the wall near Veronica. The violence of the motion startled her, but she was careful not to let it show.

"What would you know of love?" he hissed, "You made men dance for you and then picked the easiest to bend to your will."

She tilted her head in defiance.

"You don't actually believe that."

"Oh?"  
"No, you don't. If you actually thought that," Veronica said, surprised by the calm in her voice, "then I'd be dead by now."

He fell silent. Horvath turned to the door. Veronica waited for him to do something, say something, threaten her some more. Instead his voice, when it came, was plaintive.

"Why him?" he asked.

Unsure of the question Veronica said nothing.

"Why my best friend?" Horvath asked forlornly.

For a moment she saw the boy she had practiced spells with, fought mandragoras and evil sorcerers. For a moment she saw her brother. That was why she answered honestly.

"Because I loved him," she said, "We were so alike, even from an early age. I think that perhaps we were made for each other, certainly we were prophesized about. And when love comes you don't turn it away. You and I…we were better when we were brother and sister. That is how we belonged. I can honestly say that I never-"

"Never?" he interrupted, sounding miserable.

"Never."

Horvath turned around to face her. His features eroded and her brother disappeared. He was angry now and Veronica wished she could take back her personal words.

"I'm glad I have this then," he said slowly, taking the spancel out of his pocket, "Know what this is?"

Her mind flickered to a page of the Incantus that she had studied so long ago. Veronica drew back in a mixture of terror and disgust.

"So you do," he said.

"Horvath, no, no, just no," Veronica said, "Whatever pain you felt, whatever you're still feeling is not worth using **that**."

"It is," he smirked, approaching her.

"It won't work," said Veronica fiercely, "It won't make me forget him."

"Not all at once. Might take a few hours, but if you know anything about it you know it will," he said, "Some small part of you will always know, so you'll be secretly miserable. That's Mordred's revenge."

His hand shot out and grabbed her head. Holding it still despite her struggles he tapped her head with his cane. The jewel glowed blue and she slumped to the ground. With great care he propped her back up again. Moving her hair away he tied it around her neck, the skin of the tape supple under his fingers.

"And in some small way," he said to her sleeping form, "mine as well."


	40. Chapter 40

Craig looked over the top of the laptop. The twins were working on stripping a few wires that Craig had carried in his emergency case. Soon they would be ready and he could use them to draw energy from the blender, toaster, and possibly refrigerator. His computer could run on anything, but a good deal of energy was needed.

So far he had managed to get communications up and running with the New York Merlinians. The power was being sapped quickly though, which was why he needed more. In the past he had cannibalized everything from a iPod to a satellite dish so kitchenware was no biggie. He felt confident that he could do this and only wondered if he could do it all fast enough.

He bent his head back to work, making a conscious effort not to look at Kate. He knew that she was using a few small spells to erase the words from the walls and smooth the plaster over. She'd also been fixing the door, helped Balthazar find the location of Mordred and Horvath with her sand. Now that they knew it was a cemetery it was made easier.

In short Kate had been maintaining her usual high-quality of work. She was acting the Prime with every bit of her considerable experience. Everything about her was business-like and practical. Yet, something was very obviously wrong. To start with she hadn't said anything since Balthazar and the Prime Merlinian had left.

His father had once told him that the curse of any immortal sorcerer was immortality, period. Kate had looked the exact same then, when Craig was seven, as she did now. When he was older he knew about her true age and had started to wonder. Perhaps that was why she didn't get along with most people, too busy trying not to get hurt. After all those centuries you just shut yourself off.

However, she hadn't been alive for centuries. She had had been alive just long enough for it to start hurting. Robin, a man he never met, had already gone by the time he entered the group. As had his son. He could remember Lacy coming in from time to time when he was younger, but not recently. However, he got the impression she was comforted by the thought of having family somewhere. Now that Becky was dead she wouldn't have any generations in the future that would share her blood.

It had all been said with her expression when she'd seen Becky's body. It had been lying on her bed on top of the covers. Dave had moved her body there before they had arrived. He had done his best to make her look presentable. Craig had at least been comforted by the fact that her eyes were closed. Head trauma wounds, from what he read, sometimes left their victim's eyes open. No one should have to see that.

"I hear there's a dead person in the next room," Julian whispered, taking Craig out of his reverie, "An actual dead person."

Kate stiffened and started to turn. Craig started to get up, anxious to warn the ignorant children. He was too late.

"Dead?" asked Tabitha, shrinking away, "As in dead dead?"

"Yes as in dead dead!" bellowed Kate, jerking away from the wall, "Now shut up and get back to work!"

They both immediately bowed their heads and got back to work. Neither of them understood why they were being punished and he felt a little sorry for them. He didn't dare say that to Kate though. The expression she was wearing now didn't leave any room for argument, no matter how logical.

"Children," she snapped to the air, "Stupid stupid **stupid **children! I should've known better than to let them come. Understand nothing, absolutely nothing. Why the hell did I drag them along in the first place?"

Her hand pounded the wall. Then, ever so slowly, the fist unclenched. She looked ahead of herself, puzzled.

"I…do I…I need them with me. You said their names. Told me to bring them…but…but you never met them, did you?" she said softly, staring at her hand, "Oh Lacy, what are you trying to warn me about?"

.

.

.

Dave leaned his head against the window of the car, saying nothing. No one had said a word after they left the apartment, none save Balthazar.

"With Kate's directions I think it should be just outside of the city," he said, "We'll spread out once we're there. We've probably only got one shot at this, and we don't know what he's used to fortify his position."

The New York Merlinians had gotten into the other car, so it was just him and his Master in the car. Excalibur rested on his lap and his mind imagined a million different ways that he could put it to use against Mordred. The possibilities were endless and he might have the chance to use them all if he had the time.

Dave breathed out. He tried to think of something else, anything else. There'd been a test on Thursday; his mother's birthday was in a month, normal, everyday things. Every time he did though he felt like he was letting her go, forgetting about her. As if that was possible. His grip on Excalibur tightened.

There was no thinking of anything else. Not now, possibly not ever. Every time he closed his eyes he could see her smiling at him, shoving crepes into his mouth, or leaning in for one of their treasured kisses. It wasn't fair. This wasn't supposed to happen to her, not with all those protection spells they had put on her. Apparently it hadn't been enough in the end though. Nothing ever seemed to be.

"Dave," Balthazar ventured.

He opened his eyes and stared forwards.

"We're going to be arriving soon," he said.

Dave nodded to show that he heard.

"Listen," Balthazar said hesitantly, "I'm not going to say she's gone to a better place, or some sort of comforting nonsense. It's because there isn't anything that can really comfort when it comes down to it."

Dave's eyes stared blankly ahead.

"I know you don't want to talk about it either," said Balthazar, "Because you can't. Not right now. Maybe in a few weeks or years you will be, but not now. When you are ready to do so I'll do my damndest to listen to you for a change."

Once more Dave said nothing in response to what he supposed was supposed to help. He didn't even look over at the speaker. A few weeks or years? No. It would be over tonight. Sighing Balthazar pressed on.

"I will tell you one thing though," he said, "And I want a vocal answer to this to make sure you're still fully functioning. Doing something stupid and getting yourself killed tonight will **not** bring Becky back. You keep thinking it's your fault, and you may be hoping that you and Mordred will kill each other. I've been there, so don't deny it."

Feeling a small modicum of surprise his eyes flickered over to Balthazar.

"But Becky wouldn't want that," he said, "Do you know what Veronica told me a few weeks ago? Becky confided in her, and she said that she wasn't worried about herself. She was worried about you, although she had every reason to be worried about herself."

The truth of the statement was so brutal that Dave had to close his eyes to keep the tears in.

"So unless you want to let her down," finished Balthazar, "you're going to live tonight. You're going to keep going until it's your appropriate time to die and that's **not **when you're twenty. Understand me?"

For a moment Dave didn't think he'd be able to speak. Once had swallowed back the emotions that were clogging his throat though he was able to murmur;

"Yes."

"Good," Balthazar said, stepping on the brakes, "And if you don't remember that than I'll kill you myself. Now let's get going."

.

.

.

"So how much can you remember?"

Veronica shrugged.

"Not much," she said, "I remember living in…New York, but only vaguely. So much of it is missing."

Horvath nodded understandingly with a look of sympathy. Veronica was relieved and leaned back in her chair. There were things going on that she didn't understand, but it wasn't so bad. She would figure things out eventually; while she had never had extreme physical strength she had always prided herself on being clever.

Right now she felt drained and exhausted. There was an ache in her chest too for some reason. Still, she knew that whatever had happened she was safe for now. When you woke up not remembering where you'd been for the past several hours and had gaping holes in your memory it was good to see a familiar face.

"I think the spell the attackers used took a lot out of you," he said, his hand brushing her forehead, "Or perhaps you were hit on the head."

Feeling his touch to ascertain that she was alright was both kind and uncomfortable at the same time. The emotive feeling felt almost artificial somehow though while the discomfort seemed genuine.

"Like I said, I don't know what happened in the past few hours," she said, wondering what on earth was wrong with her, "I can't even remember why it's 2010 now. I just know that it is."

"Hm, puzzling," he said, withdrawing his hand, "Anything else?"

She hesitated.

"The night when Master died," she confessed slowly, "I remember riding to the castle. But…wasn't someone with me? I can't remember who."

Horvath's left eyebrow twitched.

"You came alone," he said.

"I suppose," said Veronica, "But…are you sure I wasn't with a knight or something? I can almost remember being given a torch by them-"

"You came. **Alone**."

Veronica blinked, startled by the way her friend's tone had abruptly turned dark.

"You remember more than I do," she said, trying to keep the uncertainty out of her voice.

She couldn't afford to doubt him. Veronica had grown up with him. He wouldn't lie to her, not unless there was a good reason. Still…something was wrong. Even as she watched the dark expression left his face and it turned cheerful.

"You'd best get some rest," he said, "Who knows? This spell might wear off soon and your memory mend itself. I have something I need to attend to."

There was something about the way that he said 'mend' that made her uneasy, but she just nodded. After he left she looked about her room. Rest was a good idea, certainly. Still, she didn't feel like going back to sleep just yet. Things were going on now and she would need to be alert for them.

Her hand touched her throat, an old gesture of restiveness. She frowned as soon as she did. It felt like there was something tied there. Veronica looked down but saw nothing. The strange feeling persisted beneath her fingertips for a few more seconds before disappearing entirely.

Most people would've shrugged it off as a trick of their mind. Veronica had grown up in a world where such thinking could kill you. Something was around her neck and she'd have to figure it out. Just because she couldn't see it didn't mean it wasn't there. Just another thing for her to figure out.


	41. Chapter 41

From their place outside the parking lot Balthazar reached his hand out. He tried to look for evidence of recent magic, but the damper was too strong. Switching tactics he probed for auras instead. He was so familiar with both Veronica and Horvath's auras that he could feel even the slightest whisper from them. Pin-pointing the location he motioned towards the others.

They moved forward. Their feet made crunching noises on the leaves and he wished he had thought to put a spell on their shoes. Most of it was kept to a minimum. Kate had grown up in a war zone and had taught her soldiers how to move. Dave just crunched into the ground, but Balthazar had the feeling that anything he said to admonish him would go in one ear and out the other now.

He felt bad for Dave, he really did. Pity and sorrow weren't really emotions he could indulge in though. Once they were all safe and everything was over than he could afford to try and snap him out of it. Right now there was a job to be done. Even Dave, in the state he was in, could understand that.

Balthazar stopped when they reached a crypt. It looked deceptively small, but he could sense that the auras were deep underground. It might connect to natural caves, or Mordred might have made some to suit his purposes. Either way it didn't matter. He could feel the defensive spells and started to dismantle them one by one.

"Alright," Balthazar said, "I want two of you setting up a perimeter. I'm not having Mordred summon any dead people without us knowing."

"Three guesses who's going to be doing that," Ashley said sarcastically, "Good little apprentice, come with us but do all the boring stuff."

Balthazar gritted his teeth. It had been decades since he'd been involved in magical operations concerning someone other than himself. He had found it hard enough coordinating Dave, and with three other people with three other opinions things were going to get difficult. However, he still had seniority.

"I didn't ask for your opinion," replied Balthazar, "And if you wanted to be involved in close combat than you shouldn't have taken up archery. Michael, you go with her. If something goes wrong Jack will call you."

Michael nodded and grabbed Ashley by the arm. They sped off together, Ashley rather reluctantly, leaving Jack with Balthazar and Dave.

"Jack, there's another crypt that connects with this one," he said, pointing and trying to concentrate on the image of the caves in his mind, "So you're going to go around the back. If things heat up too much than you'll join us. See if you can dismantle a couple of the defensive and offensive spells that they've set up."

Jack gave him a nod before running towards where Balthazar was pointing. Soon he disappeared around a row of tombstones, his footsteps fading into the distance. Alone with his apprentice he cleared his mind and let his ring start to glow faintly. Underneath his breath he murmured;

"Can everyone hear me?"

"Yup, looks like Craig's got us online," Ashley said, "We'll be picking up the conversations of all magic users for about a square mile on our cells. Well, just your since you're the only one whose magical frequency we know. Just don't talk about anything too personal or you might find it on Facebook."

"Only you'd think of a joke like that at a time like this," said Michael.

"Someone's got to lighten the mood," she insisted.

"No one is going to lighten the mood," Dave snapped.

The Merlinians fell silent. Balthazar looked at Dave who had drawn Excalibur.

"We're going in the front, right?" he said, "Since they expect us."

"Yes," said Balthazar, feeling a little wary of his apprentice, "Don't do anything stupid."

"I already said I wasn't going to, or didn't you hear that?" snapped Dave back, "Now let's get going."

Shaking his head Balthazar went up to the door of the crypt. He broke the last containment spell before going inside. Dave's footsteps followed him into the small dank chamber.

"I don't see a way down," said Dave.

"Well, they wouldn't just put stairs," Balthazar said, "Probably hide it a little-ah, here we go."

He stomped on a loose tile. It gave way and the tiles shifted to reveal a small staircase leading downwards. Balthazar checked it for some sort of defensive spell, but finding none he summoned some light and went downwards. Dave followed close behind him, his footsteps heavy and determined.

.

.

.

Mordred combed his hair and looked at himself critically in a mirror. He was pleased with the black velvet clothes that he had picked out for the occasion. They had flair to them, tailored to hide the wound that hadn't closed from Excalibur. There was no more blood for the wound to bleed, but he hated the way it looked. If only there was some way to disguise the scar on his face as well…

"Mordred."

"Horvath," Mordred replied, turning to face him, "How fares Veronica?"

"She's confused."

"That will pass soon," said Mordred, "Then her memory will stitch itself together and she won't remember to be confused."

"She still has vague memories of him."

"How many times should I explain this?" sighed Mordred, "She will for the first few hours. Then it will all pass and she'll be as wrong as hail."

Grinning he turned around.

"Leave it on for a while longer and she'll fall for you, fall very hard and then you'll have everything you've wanted. This will just kill Balthazar."

He chuckled.

"Well, technically you'll be what kills him," he said, "But you'll have crushed him first and that's got to be worth something. I have to admit that I never thought I'd use the spancel, thought that it wasn't very practical. I should've known better. Mother found this magic most useful so yes, I should've known."

He smiled and spread his arms wide.

"She knew best," he said, "Now, what do you think of the outfit?"

"Suitable."

"I know," he said, fastening the cloak, "Why does everyone have to dress so awfully these days? That's what I'd like to know. Give me the days of leather and velvet and silver any time."

Finishing with the fastenings he picked up a sword. Horvath had kept several swords close and this was the most magical he had had. Once Mordred had enhanced it he thought that it was a fitting blade for his use. He hefted it in his hands and swung it through the air experimentally.

"Mordred," said Horvath, "I came because a familiar aura has entered the premises."

"I know," Mordred said, "And now we come to fruition. Don't worry about it. I've sent out a welcoming party."

He sheathed his sword.

"What's a coronation without guests after all?" he asked, "Oh, and feasting."

Mordred smirked.

"Can't forget about the feasting."

.

.

.

"All quiet on the western front," Ashley murmured.

"You're to the east," said Michael sarcastically, "Or did I miss something? Not take geography?"

"Yeah but-"

She stopped talking when she saw something start to crawl from the dirt. From her position high up in a tree she could see the whole graveyard. This thing was coming up next to her tree and coming up quickly. If it looked up then it would see her and, while its brain might be mostly rotted away, he would at least be able to register fresh meat.

"Zombie, two o'clock," she said, nocking an arrow.

"I think you need to get your watch fixed," said Michael, failing to hold in laughter, "It's nine-thirty."

"I meant directionally, idiot."

"Alright smart one, where's two o'clock then?"

"I don't know. Where are you?"

"On top of the white crypt."

"Then up left. Don't worry about it though. I got him."

She shot her arrow and it sailed through his eye and into his brain. The undead slumped down to the floor and crumbled into dust that was quickly blown away. Ashley smiled smugly to herself. Despite the fact that she had trouble conjuring up a vacuum spell she was **very** good with arrows.

"That was easy," she said.

"You might want to take that back. Look to your right."

She turned and saw another twenty crawling up from the ground. They were further off, but their very presence was worrying.

"I think I'm going to need more arrows," she said.

"Hey Balthazar?" asked Michael, "There're some rather ugly things coming up from the ground. Think Mordred knows you're here?"

"They might be a security device," Balthazar said as Ashley nocked another arrow, "How many?"

"Um…lots?"

"Then he probably knows."

"Well I wish I'd brought a Winchester rifle," she said, "Might make a lot of noise but it'd be useful."

"Do keep in mind that this isn't a zombie movie," Jack said.

"But headshots still work, right?" asked Ashley as she sent off another arrow.

"Last I read my Incantus."

"So we're in a **magical** zombie movie," she said, getting another one, "I think we get full points on originality."

"At least it's not a wild west zombie movie," said Michael, the sound of magic coming from his end, "Those are awful."

"Don't watch them then."

Another arrow hit another zombie. They had noticed her now and were coming towards her. She nocked an arrow and waited, ready.


	42. Chapter 42

**_A/N: _**_And for everyone who actually thought Becky was dead...sorry. _

The brush and bramble that had been piled up on the hillside was impressive. The fact that so much had been gathered was strange since they were so near the sea. That wasn't what was interesting. Nor was it the actual size of the pile. What was actually impressive, in a curious sort of way, was how it had all been woven into something resembling a pedestal. It was so perfectly woven, so in place, that it couldn't possibly have been done by hand.

A man and a boy stood by it. Becky watched the man murmur something to the boy on his left. Both of them were dressed in black and she recognized them from her previous dreams. The boy nodded with difficulty and the man snapped his fingers. Fire flared up on his fingertips before he pointed them at the wood. As the flames licked the wood she thought she saw a figure dressed in a gray gown at the top. Soon the fire consumed it and she saw no more.

The boy started crying. The sobs were quiet but fierce. With equal intensity he began wiping his face with his sleeves. The man next to him hadn't shed a tear though. He didn't even seem to notice that the child was crying. He stared at the flames, his attention not wavering for a second. The only motion he made was to rub a gold band on one of his fingers.

"So broken he's standing up."

Whirling around Becky saw a woman standing behind her. She was the same blindfolded woman, looking in her thirties now. Her hair was down and she was wearing a loose white gown, not unlike a nightgown that Becky had owned when she was younger. Uneasy Becky took a step backwards.

"I think it's time for me to wake up right now," she muttered.

"Becky," the woman sighed, "If you were actually dreaming, I hope you wouldn't dream about this. I also hope you wouldn't wear your pajamas in your dreams."

She stopped, feeling uncertain. Looking down she saw that she was, indeed, wearing her nightgown. The woman sighed again.

"Becky, do you mind if I call you Becky? Thought not. Well, your lover is a sorcerer, and so is your best friend," she said, "Did you think you could move through all of that without any side-effects? Hm?"

"I get weird dreams because I date Dave?" Becky asked.

"No. You get dreams because you're a seer," she said.

Becky stared at her.

"Wha…who are you?"

"It might be easier if you sit down," she suggested, "This is a nice place and you look a little overwhelmed."

Reluctantly Becky sat down.

"Now that's good," she said, "My name is Nimue Wylt, formerly Nimue Strongarm. I got married you see."

Nimue grinned.

"And before you ask who to, because you're a clever girl," she said, "His name was Merlin Wylt. Yes, that Merlin. Your lover's great-great-great…it's very long but it ends as great-great-uncle."

She cocked her head and waited. Becky rubbed her temples, trying to make sense of everything.

"Hold on," said Becky, "I'm not asleep am I? There was…Horvath came in, and then Mordred hit me…"

"I can't see that much of the future," answered Nimue, "So I don't know who Mordred is. I do know a little though and yes, you were hit."

"So I'm injured and unconscious."

"Actually you're dead."

Becky didn't say anything to that. She just stared, her mouth moving wordlessly every now and then.

"I'm going a little fast, aren't I?" Nimue asked.

"Just a little," said Becky irritably, "So where am I now if I'm **dead**?"

"You just told me to take it slow and you're asking questions like that?" asked Nimue, laughing, "Let's leave that for later. I'll try to start small. I'm a seer, and the granddaughter of a seer. I never just dream. I dream of days past and days to come."

She nodded at the pyre.

"That's me down there, my husband and my adopted son seeing to my last rites. I've made so many enemies that they have to burn me to prevent desecration," she said, "I know it's coming soon, my death. I also know it's going to be painful and that Merlin won't be with me when I pass. I…I just hope that…that it will mean something."

Her voice caught and she stopped.

"Anyway, I'm dreaming about this right now, the future. When it's the future I'm separate from all of the events. When it's the past I see it through my own eyes, as I was," she said, "But sometimes when I dream I cast out into the great sea of subconscious like a fishing net. Anyone powerful enough to get caught up in it I meet in my dreams. They're receivers."

Gently she tapped Becky's forehead.

"You're a receiver, a very good one at that," she said, "And I'm a very good caller. You've been latching onto my calls for years."

"I just started having them," Becky protested.

"They're not chronological," shrugged Nimue, "Now, where was I?"

"Latching onto your calls."

"Yes, mostly at times of high emotional distress. Us seers have to stick together," she said.

"Okay," Becky said, still having a little trouble, "If that's what I am, why haven't I been able to figure out, say, that Mordred kills me?"

"Complicated question," Nimue said, "Keep in mind I don't have all the answers. But I'd say it was the lack of exposure to magic. Sometimes that can happen. Not to mention that you haven't had your Arcana, or major prophecy, yet. All seers have them, it really kick starts the visions. It has the unfortunate side effect of taking our sight."

She untied her blindfold to reveal pale, sightless blue eyes. There were flecks of gold in them and they reminded Becky of her grandmother's eyes. Nimue laid the blindfold on her lap and laughed again.

"No, it's not pretty. But all seers who have Arcanum have this happen to them. It's a price that we pay. You haven't had one."

Nimue tapped her on the forehead again.

"And you're not going to have one, God be praised."

"But you said-"

"I'm coming to that," she said, "Listen, I'm the granddaughter of a great seer. She had her Arcana young and prophesized the coming of Merlin. The fact that I am her granddaughter is very, very uncommon. Seers can have some trouble conceiving you see, and the power is generally not passed on. But in my case it was, skipping a generation to give me an extra boost. This means that I'm a seer who has hereditary memories, much like your lover only on a lesser scale. This makes me powerful and more in control of my powers than any seer in over a thousand years. Until you were born that is."

"But my grandmother she…she isn't…" started Becky miserably.

"Becky," sighed Nimue, "You're a clever girl. Your grandmother's eyes look exactly like mine. I've just explained the relation of grandmothers to their granddaughters in seeing the future."

Becky put her head in her hands. This couldn't be happening to her. This was too strange, too infringing on everything she had known in her life. It made sense of course. It explained her grandmother's confidence in moving about and her penchant for being prepared for everything. That didn't make it any less disturbing though.

"It doesn't bother you that your childhood sweetheart turned out to be the man who saved the world but that your grandmother can see the future?" asked Nimue, "Truly emotions are insensible."

"Stop it," Becky said, "Just stop it. Whatever it is you're trying to tell me, tell me and get it over with. Got it?"

She looked up. Nimue looked hurt but didn't say anything to the effect.

"You're my descendant, through my grandmother's brother," she said softly, "and again a granddaughter is born to a grandmother with a great power. She was the one who predicted that Dave would be found in New York. My husband's apprentice, I can't remember which one, I only saw him briefly, is not omnipotent you know. So this makes you insanely powerful but you weren't really exposed to magic. It sort of locked it all inside of you. Now that you are in contact with it on a daily basis it's coming up."

Not looking in her direction Nimue started to tear some grass.

"But you've also got another side effect. You're **too **powerful for an Arcana. You'll have visions, but you'll never go blind. You're everything that a seer would pray to be, all of the benefits and none of the set-backs."

Again Nimue never looked up. Becky processed the information.

"How do you know this?"

"Like I said," Nimue elaborated, "Things don't happen chronologically. You told me about two years back, and then said that I needed to tell you this. She mentioned you might be a little…touchy about the subject."

"This is some serious headache stuff here," murmured Becky.

"Indeed," Nimue said, "But you need to survive. There's a whole future where I know you, where you live. So you can't die."

"You just told me I'm dead!"

"Yes and no," said Nimue, "It's a seer thing; we're very hard to kill. You can still die soon though. You've got to fight the touch of the Grim Reaper. Dying is painful but coming back is even worse. I felt it at my Arcana, but someone else had a much closer shave."

Nimue picked up her blindfold and got to her feet. She tied it back on, business-like. "Come on. We've got to go."

"Where?" Becky asked, scrambling to her feet.

"There's someone else you need to see."

She led her into the fields until they gave way to a dressing room. A woman was sitting at the vanity table, brushing out her long blonde hair.

"No…" started Becky.

"Lacy Steed, nineteen years old, a few months before she marries Robin Barnes," said Nimue, "She's casting right now. So much has been going on and she's so stressed that she's fallen asleep before the USO performance where she is reunited with him and he proposes. Just dreaming about what she did a few moments before."

Becky dug her fingernails into her skin.

"When she was thirteen she had her Arcana and nearly didn't come back," said Nimue, "It was very, very close. She can give you a few directions."

Her face softened.

"I know this is difficult for you," she said, "But you want to come back, don't you?"

Nimue faded away. Feeling as though there was no floor beneath her feet she inched forward slowly. Lacy stopped brushing her hair and put the brush down. She got up slowly and turned in her long evening gown to face Becky. Her face lit up and she rushed forwards to embrace her. Becky stood frozen before reciprocating the gesture.

"You're my granddaughter, aren't you?" asked Lacy.

"Yes, yes I am," Becky replied, fighting tears.


	43. Chapter 43

Despite the frequent reports from Ashley and Michael of the zombie infestation outside, Dave and Balthazar had yet to encounter any obstacles. They moved through the caverns, no longer trying to mask their presence. Balthazar had reasoned to Dave that if everyone already knew they were there then trying to be sneaky would just cause embarrassment later. Dave had nodded silently, something that he did now to most everything Balthazar said.

He was shutting down in many ways, barely even passing for alert. There was still that deadness in his eyes. Balthazar felt frustrated; another 'buck-up' talk was out of place now but he should try and do something. He wasn't even paying attention anymore. As if he knew what Balthazar was thinking Dave started to look around, taking some small interest in his surroundings. They had come into a large, circular cavern, and Balthazar was relieved to see that changes in location could make Dave take notice.

So when the first attack came both of them were able to throw up shields. The fire created a dent in both of them and Balthazar started to look around for the attacker. He had expected Mordred to come out and meet them, but he should've known better than to hope for such a direct confrontation.

"Horvath," he growled.

"Balthazar, looking tired and wrecked as usual," he said, brandishing his cane, "Unlike young Dave here. Goodness boy, you're looking almost Morganian at the moment. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

Dave's fist clenched but he said nothing. The fact that this statement wasn't denied by Dave, nor did it seem to really bother him worried Balthazar.

"Don't push him Horvath," warned Balthazar, "This is between you and me. Now where's Veronica?"

"Predictable questions, clichéd phrases. But if you must know dear Veronica is resting at the moment," Horvath said, "She's had a rather trying day you know."

"I don't suppose you'll quit being an asshole and tell me where?' asked Balthazar, narrowing his eyes.

"Interesting terminology," Horvath said, "But we will be doing no such thing tonight. There will be no random battles."

"Meaning?"

"Mordred and I have both claimed the honor of killing each one of you by ourselves. You do remember how we would conduct duels in the olden days Balthazar?"

"You're just trying to split us up."

"I've claimed you as my kill Balthazar, and he has graciously given me the opportunity. Like you said, this is between you and me," Horvath said, "So Mordred won't be doing something so crass as to interfere with our combat. We'll be staying here in this dismal little place. Dave, do go on ahead. Mordred does want to kill you himself and he doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Dave started forwards almost immediately after he heard that Mordred was up ahead. He wanted to go after him, had claimed that battle for his own since the moment he knew he'd taken Becky's life. No matter what he had said about Veronica that was the real reason he had come. Balthazar clamped his hand on the boy's shoulder as he went by, made desperate by the look in his apprentice's eyes.

"Dave, listen to me," Balthazar said hurriedly, "Don't do anything stupid. When you fight him fight to win and to come out alive. Do you hear me?"

Dave shrugged. Before Balthazar could argue the point Horvath waved his cane in the air impatiently;

"Dave, run along or he might get bored and leave."

Saying nothing Dave hurried down the passage. Horvath looked after him and sighed theatrically.

"He'll be dead by morning," he said.

"I doubt that," Balthazar said as the two sorcerers began to circle each other, "He's not just powerful, he actually wants to kill Mordred now."

"Question is as to how he plans to do that," Horvath said, "But I'm glad your little physics boy got a spine."

"We were at Becky's apartment," said Balthazar, "He's lost her. He'll do anything now."

"The ironic thing is that it's not too unlike how you're going to lose Veronica."

Balthazar flung a plasma bolt at Horvath who swatted it away with his cane. In return he threw fire at Balthazar who caught it with a vacuum spell before throwing it back. It singed Horvath's coat and would've gotten his face if he hadn't moved away. It was just one of the numerous battles that the two of them had fought with each other. However, never before had the stakes been quite this high.

Another spell hit him from the side, knocking him over. He looked up, surprised. Horvath hadn't been attacking from that direction. Instead there was another figure, far too slim for it to be Mordred. Caught in his surprise he felt himself flung backwards into the opposite wall. It was only after he was safely secured that the second sorcerer revealed themselves. His throat clogged up and he swore silently. Under his breath he murmured;

"Veronica, what's he done to you?"

.

.

.

"So, that's what's happening?" asked Lacy, pulling on long white gloves to match her evening gown.

"Exactly," replied Becky.

Her not-yet-grandmother frowned and tapped her chin. It had taken an interminable amount of time to explain what Nimue had told her, probably because she hadn't understood most of it in the first place. Throughout the whole thing Lacy had listened patiently, her eyes never leaving Becky. In this place, she had told Becky that she could see. That helped her gaze seem a little less strange.

Becky hadn't been the only one doing the explaining that night though. Lacy had taken the time to gently explain to the girl whose father hadn't even been conceived yet about herself. Her adoption was elaborated on, even the great-grandfather that Becky had never known. There was still a feeling of unreality in Becky's stomach, but it was fast fading.

"See, from what I can remember about my Arcana, and what I was told, I did die for a little bit. Pulse went out and everything. Don't know how long I was technically dead for," she said, "Just that it was long enough to fool Balthazar and Horvath. I didn't remember what happened until later, like a memory that comes back to you."

She smiled a little at Becky.

"Like I suppose I'm going to have trouble remembering this, this talk we're having now," she said, "It doesn't do to know too much about the future, and time has its own checks and balances I suppose. But back to my Arcana-death; I can remember light. Lots of light."

"I didn't see a light."

"Well, golden light," Lacy said, "This isn't Arcana-related so I don't think it's quite the same. I…I felt myself get up and start walking around to look for where the light ended. It was just an urge. When I saw black I walked into it. Once doing that I came back to my body. It felt horrible but I was alright. Should be easy for me to find for you if I try."

Lacy looked a little dreamy.

"I needed magic transfusions to restore my lost energy. They're best done by a healer, and Robin was the best. But immediately after I wasn't exactly wheelchair-weak. Strong enough to swing a paint can at Horvath anyway."

"I still can't believe you did that," grinned Becky, "I never thought you were capable of hurting a fly."

"I was thirteen and had just been having a bad day," Lacy said, "He should've known better than to push me."

"I can see that," Becky said, "One more question."

"Ask away."

"I'm starting to get these pains in my head. Not big ones, just little ones. Little images, they don't make much sense…"

"Sounds like visions, a lot of them from what it sounds like," explained Lacy, "I wouldn't worry about them. They should make sense once you wake up."

She got up and dusted off her evening gown. Closing her eyes she spun around twice. Then she pointed her finger towards her dressing room closet. Her eyes opened and she strode over to the closet. Heaving it open she revealed that there was nothing but an inky blackness behind the door. Lacy smiled and beckoned her granddaughter.

"Come on. Let's get you back. You've got so much to do after all."

.

.

.

Dave hurried through the tunnel. Balthazar's words were far behind him, so far that he could barely remember that they had been said at all. There were very few thoughts in his head, except that he was going where he wanted to be. He unsheathed his sword seconds before he rushed into another clearing.

"You're eager to die, aren't you?" asked Mordred, examining his nails, "I mean, is this how you went about fighting mother?"

He drew his own sword and grinned. The grin faded when he heard the humming noise that Dave's sword made when it moved.

"Where did you get that?" he asked angrily.

"Looks like daddie wasn't as enamored with you as mommie," Dave sneered, surprising himself with his words and tone.

Mordred's eyes widened.

"You've got some bite in you," he said, "Why is that?"

"Why do you think?" he snapped.

Looking thoughtful Mordred tapped the ground with his sword once. His face lit up with comprehension.

"The blonde, the pretty one," he said triumphantly, "You…I'm guessing you had some sort of affection for her?"

"Stop talking and fight me," Dave hissed, "Or I'll start it."

"As you wish," shrugged Mordred.

He flicked his sword out, almost lazily. Dave blocked it and thrust Mordred back. Surprised Mordred sidestepped the next blow and took a swipe at him. This one was much harder to doge though. It sliced his forearm and he gritted his teeth in pain. Still, he managed to return the blow and catch Mordred on the face.

To his dismay Mordred's wound healed almost instantly. He laughed.

"Have fun trying to kill me," he said, "I'm already dead you idiot. You're fresh meat though. First the death of the Prime Merlinian, then I come for the world."

The wound was stinging now but Dave didn't give it another look. He slashed out again and this time Mordred nicked him above the eye with the tip of his sword. Blood poured down from it and got into his eyes. To clear them Dave briefly closed them, just to stop the stinging sensation.

Becky looked back at him with her sightless eyes and bloody head. She was still beautiful in death, her skin still as clear and pale, her hair perfect, her lips like they could smile any minute. She wasn't going to smile anymore though. She wouldn't be there to try and explain bands to him, why one was better than another, things Dave would never understand. Never again would she try to surprise him from behind or wait for his training for the day to end.

His eyes flew open and he started another attack. Veronica had always told him to be unpredictable, and he was going to do his best to do it. Mordred was caught off balance by this and allowed his hand to go up to block it. Two of his fingers were severed, not growing back. Dave gripped Excalibur tightly as Mordred howled angrily. He could do this.


	44. Chapter 44

"Kate!" Craig screamed.

Kate hurried down the hall, deciding that she was going to kill him if it turned out to be another spider that he was too scared of to get rid of himself. Instead he stood gaping in the doorway to Becky's bedroom. Instinctively electricity crackled in her hands. Oh, she was going to kill him, but for a very different reason.

"I was on my way to the bathroom and the door was open and I couldn't help glancing in. Kate, she's breathing!"

The electricity grew larger and she curled her lips back in a snarl. Anyone else would've seen that this was not the kind of thing that you joked about.

"I'm serious!" he begged.

Grudgingly she looked over at Becky's form. She frowned. Now that she looked at her her chest did seem to be rising up and down. The electricity dwindled away and Kate hurried over to take her pulse. It was weak, but it was still there and getting steadier. The girl's eyelids were fluttering and they started to open tentatively. Kate quickly moved to the doorway and yelled;

"Tabitha! Julian! In here now!"

The twins scurried in.

"She's weak, needs energy or something. Same thing happened with like that Lacy," Kate said, frantically trying to remember what had been done in the end, "I think…yes, give her as much of your magic as you can. That's why I need you here, help her get strong. Lacy knew, of course Lacy knew, she's a seer for cryin' out loud!"

The twins shared a look.

"Now!"

Both of them hurried to obey. Each twin grabbed one of her hands and closed their eyes. Yellow and red light flowed from their rings' stones into Becky's veins. Her eyelids opened completely and she began blinking and taking in the sights. She started to sit up but Kate hurried over and started to push her down again.

"Nah Becky, you're too weak right now," she said, near tears with joy, "Close call for you there. Now, you're going to just take it easy-"

"As much as I'd like to, I'm gonna have to say no to that Aunt Bianca," said Becky firmly, pushing herself up, "Gotta get to the cemetery. They need me now."

.

.

.

Mordred felt exhilarated. This was the first time in a very long time that anyone had challenged his swordsmanship. Dave wasn't particularly good, but he wasn't exactly bad either. He was doing many traditional sword movements and on anyone less trained he might actually have managed to have the upper hand.

However, Mordred had been trained since he was seven. Most children started at ten but his mother had always felt that he needed to push himself. He had started out with practice sticks and moved up to swords a few months afterwards. By the time he had gone to his father's court he was very skilled.

Only Sir Lancelot was better than him, and it burned every time he came up against him in the lists. Oh, and that Letholdus. It hadn't been enough for either of them in the end though. Just like Dave's experience with swords wasn't going to be enough. Already he was gaining ground on the younger man.

For the fun of it he had started to see how he small he could make several cuts with the tip of his sword. There were a few on Dave's forehead, and many more on his arms. Since he had cut off Mordred's fingers, he'd have to sew the stupid things back on later; Dave hadn't managed to wound him greatly. All of his cuts were skin deep, things his dead flesh could take care of rather easily.

So he had been confident of the outcome. It was inevitable. Even as out of practice as Mordred was Dave had been training for a few months, tops. Balthazar wasn't much of a swordsman from what Mordred could remember. In other words it would have had to have been Veronica who'd taught him. A woman for a swords master. How laughable.

It didn't take long for Dave to realize that he was outclassed. He was smart, Mordred would have to give him that. So he started using magic as well, which was not something that Mordred had wanted. His own magic was borrowed from the voice whispering in the back of his head. Any real power he had was working to keep his body alive, keeping the impossibility of his existence going.

He was forced to fall back on his most valuable skill; manipulation. There was always something he could do to goad someone into essentially cutting their own throat. Guinevere and Lancelot for example. The ease in which he had orchestrated that never failed to surprise him. There were also many dissatisfied knights that he had gotten to side with him, to fight in his army before his death.

Dave was easy to read. He was running on adrenaline and fury. That must be the reason why he was able to be so strong, his emotions. Emotions were easily manipulated however, they just required the right leverage. He knew this from experience. Dave wanted revenge for the blonde girl, that much was obvious. He was angry, but angry could make one stupid if they didn't use it right.

"So," Mordred said, keeping his tone nonchalant, "Want to know how she died?"

His adversary didn't reply, casting a spell so that fire wrapped around the sword.

"I didn't mean to kill her, not at first. Blonde hair just looks so beautiful with blood that sometimes I can't help myself. Know what I mean?"

He parried another thrust. Mordred noticed that he was hitting a little harder than he had in the past. So far so good.

"There she was being all defiant, an excellent stimulant," he said in a dreamy tone, "So I smashed her skull up against the wall. And I ran my hands through that bloody blonde hair, feeling it all ooze through my fingers…"

Truthfully Mordred had done no such thing. He hadn't even known that she was dead for a few minutes. Dave didn't know that though, and the fury was mounting in his eyes. Now for just the right touch.

"I have a bit of an obsession actually," confessed Mordred in a confidential tone, "Women with blonde hair. Guess we have that in common."

The next blow of the sword was sloppy at best. Now it was all going to be so very easy. No worries.

.

.

.

"Oh shit!" Ashley said to no one in particular.

She kicked the latest zombie away by using her foot. They were swarming the tree and she had just managed to get to the highest branch. Her magic wasn't giving her the security she had always hoped that it would. Her mind was very much distracted right now and she had run out of arrows. She had even run out of the branches that she could turn into arrows. Still they swarmed, and from what Michael had said, things weren't so good on his end either. So no help was going to be coming from him.

Whatever the outcome of the situation though, she was **not **going to be eaten. That was a stupid death for a New York Merlinian. It was a stupid death for a cheerleader and the captain of the archery team too. Hell, it was a stupid death for anyone. So she wasn't going to allow herself to be eaten and chewed up.

Just as she decided this the bottom row of zombies caught fire. She watched in disbelief as it started to lick and destroy them. Ashley jumped out of the tree and started running towards the direction that the fire had come from. More fire came from the direction, killing any stragglers that came after her.

With great relief she saw Kate, Craig, the twins, and someone else standing there. The someone else took a bit more concentration. She stopped and stared.

"Hey, you're dead," she protested.

Becky shrugged. She was still in her nightgown without shoes or a coat. Ashley was about to comment on this before Becky followed her gaze and said;

"No time for those things. We need to get in there."

"Apparently some real shit's goin' down," Kate elaborated, "You and the twins go and get Michael. I think they can take a few zombies, and all you need to do is set them on fire. As for us, from what Becky says, sounds like we've got a date with destiny."

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.

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"Horvath, what is going on?" exclaimed Veronica.

She kept one hand extended, keeping the strange sorcerer pinned to the wall. Veronica had woken to the sounds of battle and had no idea what was going on. She had hurried through the caverns and seen the fight. It seemed fairly evenly matched. However, Horvath seemed to be taking the brunt of the attacks and she knew that she had to do something to aide him.

Horvath smiled and got to his feet.

"Just a slight attack. Some things don't change," he said lightly.

A plasma bolt started to form around his hand. He threw it at the trapped sorcerer, hitting him in the chest. The man groaned and slumped forward a little, still conscious.

"What are you doing?" Veronica asked.

He shrugged and started another plasma bolt.

"Finishing him off of course."

She felt something in her go cold.

"You're going to kill him?"

"Yes, that's what the phrase 'finishing' generally means."

Veronica drew herself up. It had been years before anyone had dared to patronize her. Coming from Horvath, the boy she had outdone for years magically made her want to retch violently. He knew better than to talk to her that way. When she spoke again her tone was clipped and terse.

"He is unarmed and quite helpless right now," she said, "We do not kill those who cannot fight back."

"He'll be dangerous later if we leave him."

She turned and looked at him. The sorcerer was staring at her with such a sad expression in his eyes. Perhaps it was because he didn't want to be killed or he was in pain, but she had the feeling it went deeper than that. This…no. Something was wrong, you didn't kill the defenseless. Horvath knew that. Her chest started to ache again and she swallowed hard before replying.

"We can trap him. I'm sure we have something that will work, a mirror or something we can use."

"That's what you want to do?" he asked, his plasma bolt dying slowly.

"Yes," she said firmly, "Just like we were taught."


	45. Chapter 45

There were zombies in the tunnels. Kate couldn't believe it and secretly wondered if there were actually that many people in the cemetery. With the ones outside and the ones inside there had to be well over a thousand. Of course, if Mordred could bring back Abigail and Sun-Lok to do his bidding maybe he wasn't restricted to the dead people in the vicinity.

Either way there were too many zombies in there. She blasted several of them away and Craig got a couple from the rear. Becky stood in between them, occasionally shouting the direction more were coming from. Kate didn't like the situation they were in. From what Becky had told her, and by the numbers on her watch, they were running out of time.

"We're going to have to make a run for it," she said, "Either that or we're trapped in here."

She found herself looking over at Becky's bare feet. It was all very well and good to say that there was no time for shoes, but the rough stones in the tunnels weren't doing her any favors. They were bloody already and running wouldn't make things better. Still, she looked determined and cut feet were the last thing that they should be worried about.

"I can second that Kate," Craig said, "Which way should we be goin' seer-girl?"

"I think…um…I think to the right. Yeah," she said.

"Sure about that?" he asked.

"You wanna try guessing for a change?" Becky shot back irritably.

"Hey, I'm not the one with-"

"Craig!" snapped Kate, "Shut up!"

"Well she-"

"She's related to me. She gets at least a week of me agreeing with everything she says," Kate said, "Now when we count to three I'm going to start pushing them back and we all run through the tunnel to the right. Everyone got that?"

"Got it."

"Yeah, whatever."

"One," Kate said; her ring's stone glowing.

The zombies kept coming. Becky and Craig started to move to the right.

"Two."

They were quite close now.

"Three!" Kate yelled, flinging out her arms.

A wall of air pushed the zombies back. The three of them took off running into the right tunnel. They came into a cavern that looked like it was the basement to another crypt. There were Greek columns in it and Kate thought that it looked familiar. She had no time to think about that though when Craig was tackled by a zombie.

He hit his head on the floor, knocking him unconscious. The zombie reared back its head and moved in for a bite. Kate flung the creature off of him and saw the advancing horde. There would be no way to carry him out there and still get to where they were going. The zombies would catch up to them before they even got near.

Kate looked down at her watch and made a split decision. She threw up a shield around Craig where he lay. She could make it impenetrable, but she couldn't make one impenetrable that could hold all of them. That was degree 690, something she wasn't close to. Kate turned her head towards where Becky stood, uncertain of whether to go on or not.

"You go," she said, cracking her neck, "I'll hold them off."

"But-"

"Becky, believe it or not I have actually survived worse. And I have a feeling that I need to be here, a strong one," Kate said, keeping one eye on the advancing zombie horde, "So go on. He needs you."

There was another moment of hesitation. Then Becky took off running down the passage. The girl knew where she was going so Kate didn't have to worry about her getting lost. She admired her headstrong determination and was glad that she hadn't pressured Balthazar to send her away. It was good to see a Barnes being reckless and brave.

She looked around at her surroundings. It was the twenty-first century. There were Greek columns. She had her game face on, which meant that she was ready to fight and looking pissed as hell. Lacy had always been accurate, always drawn well. So no matter what happened she was going to be immortalized for being at the one place in time that she needed to be.

The countless zombies came. Kate grinned. It would be over soon.

.

.

.

Veronica stared at the strange sorcerer. Horvath had left a few minutes ago to go and fetch something that they could properly enchant, leaving her alone to contain him. He was unable to speak; Veronica had made sure to do the full bind. She wasn't having any spoken spells being cast on her when she least expected it.

For some reason he was still struggling though. Anyone with any sense knew that a person wouldn't be able to release themselves unless the caster became distracted. There was little chance of that happening. With each second more of his energy was sapped and it was obviously very painful.

She frowned. He was still fighting. There was no resignation on his face, just a strong determination that stayed strong as his body weakened. Such determination was rare in a Morganian. Veronica was starting to wonder if perhaps there had been some mistake. Maybe he had mistaken Horvath for someone else and was just a confused Merlinian.

Uncertain her hand went to her throat, an old gesture of distress of unknown origin. Once there she was surprised to feel a necklace under her fingers. Yes, she was wearing a necklace, one she hadn't paid much attention to. She couldn't remember putting it on which was odd since she disliked jewelry as a whole. So Veronica would've remembered doing that.

Frowning again she unclasped it. As she did she was careful to keep at least part her mind on the spell that held the sorcerer. She ran her fingers over the weave of the metals and placement of the jewels. It was familiar somehow and she had to rack her brains to remember where she had seen it before.

Queen Betrice. Yes, Gareth's bride. She had been wearing it when she came in to be presented to the court. Veronica had admired how lovely it looked and she had blushed, murmuring thanks in broken English. It had been a betrothal gift and the young Queen made them fashionable throughout the country.

Veronica looked at in disbelief. What was she doing with a betrothal necklace? She wouldn't buy something like this for herself just because she liked the design. Its significance was too great. Someone had given this to her. She tried to remember when it had happened and she glimpsed a park late at night. There was the feeling of her brushing her hair away to allow someone to clasp it on her neck.

Almost immediately the memory started to fade. Gritting her teeth she clasped the necklace tighter. Why was the memory going away? Veronica had barely even thought about it and now it was going. Something was taking it away from her and the more she chased it the more it started to vanish.

Her hand went to her throat again and she felt the thick stickiness. Somehow these two things were connected. Slowly she started to feel around her throat and felt an outline of a ribbon of some kind. Still exploring she found a knot and tried to undo it with her nails. She failed; it was too tightly wound around her throat.

Putting down the necklace she started to grip it. If she couldn't untie it then she'd just have to rip it off. It wasn't easy; whatever the ribbon was made out of it was stretchy and stuck. It bit into her skin painfully and she felt the strange sorcerer watching her. Veronica knew she was losing her grip on the spell, but she knew she couldn't stand to wear this thing any longer.

When the ribbon had stretched greatly she started to push it over her head. It got tangled in her hair and she ripped some of it out in her haste. Soon the ribbon was off of her and she flung it as far away from her as she could. It crackled in the air and became visible. To her disgust it looked like it was made of **skin**.

Her disgust didn't have a chance to fully form itself. There was a sharp pain in her head and she dropped to the floor. Veronica lost control of the spell she had cast, but she was in too much pain to care. Places, a name, a face inundated her. She reached for the necklace to give her something solid to hold on to as her head felt like it was going to split open.

Then the pain disappeared. Veronica opened her eyes and looked down at the necklace. What was it doing off her? Trying to be logical she put it back on. She hardly ever took that off so why had she…oh God. Veronica looked over to where Balthazar lay, free of the spell but obviously in a great deal of pain.

She hurried over, turning him on his back. He groaned and she kissed him softly on the lips.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry love," she murmured, cradling him in her arms.

"Not your fault," he managed, trying to sit up.

Veronica pushed him back a little.

"Don't worry, rest for a little bit. I'll get you out of here before-"

"Before what?"

She held onto Balthazar tightly before looking up to see Horvath holding a mirror. He put it down and straightened. Instantly she set up a shield and glared at Horvath.

"I suppose I really shouldn't be so surprised," he said coldly.

"No," Veronica said, "You shouldn't. Now leave."

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Because we were raised together I am going to give you one last chance to leave," she said, her voice low, "If we hear news of you trying something like this again then we'll come after you, but otherwise we'll never see each other again."

"Or?"

"Or we fight. I'll win," she said flatly, "I'll win and you'll be punished for what you did to me and Balthazar and Becky and Dave and God only knows who else. So stop."

Horvath started laughing, a sound that sent chills down her spine.

"I can't stop," Horvath said bitterly, "I'll never be able to stop. It's too late for that."

Veronica nodded, fighting back tears for the fact that her older brother really was gone. She laid Balthazar down gently, putting a shield around him. He tried to get up but she forced him back down again. This was both of their fight, true enough. Yet, Balthazar was too weak for it now and he'd been fighting it for years. The responsibility was hers.

Horvath threw fire at her and she dodged. She made a few water spells, several obvious attacks. Unlike Horvath she had a plan. She summoned up a plasma bolt, forcing him to doge. Using that as a distraction she ran over and grabbed the mirror. It was a sorcerer trap alright; she could feel that just by touching it. It was several centuries old by her reckoning. It would work.

As soon as Horvath saw what she was about to do he tried to move away. Veronica was too quick for him, she always had been. Grabbing his arm she cried the ancient incantation for such an ocasion she had been taught so many years ago;

"Laqueus!"

Horvath's image stretched and was sucked into the mirror. Veronica performed a shrinking spell on it and waved her hand over its surface. The surface became murky and Veronica murmured;

"Goodbye Horvath."

She moved over to where Balthazar was and handed him the mirror. He said nothing as he put it inside his pocket; there was nothing to say. Instead he just allowed her to help him back onto his feet, his arm securely around her shoulders and holding him close. Veronica kissed him again before saying;

"Now, let's go find Dave."


	46. Chapter 46

Kate leaned back against the columns, her feet unsteady. The one time that she wore sensible shoes she wound up in a situation where they didn't matter. She was tired, there was no strength left in her, none whatsoever. All things considering she found it interesting that she was still standing. When she took an inventory of herself; she was dazed, tired, and alive. The last one also made her shocked as hell.

For decades she had thought that she would die when she completed Lacy's vision. She thought that it would be the end. When it came true it seemed so heroic, dying to buy time for her great-niece so that she could rescue her love. In turn her love would save the world, so Kate would die for both family and the world. It wouldn't be peaceful, but Kate had never pictured herself going out peacefully like John or Robin.

Now though she had bought her that time and had somehow managed to live through it all. How shocking. Even as she stood there amidst the zombie limbs and heads she could feel her longevity spells slip away. She would age normally now, but she would age. One day she would have gray hair and wrinkles. One day she might even die in her sleep.

Kate started to cry. It was all so glorious. Every day that she looked at herself in the mirror she hated the fact that her face hadn't changed, that she still looked exactly the same. Not any longer. Her face would scar and wrinkle and there would be laughter lines. She had time now that she was no longer immortal, she had time to live.

She started laughing from the sheer joy of it all. She could see it all now. She wouldn't have to see Ashley, Michael, Craig, Becky, wouldn't have to see any of them die of old age. There would be no more funerals of those born after her. She wouldn't have to see George die and attend his funeral.

Oh George, the man who stayed in love with her all these years after she rejected him. He had been so young then but she'd known he'd go. Every time she had pushed him away it had hurt them both and she'd tried to rationalize things. Everything had changed now. Kate could afford to start a relationship, maybe even have children if things worked out that way. There was nothing she couldn't have.

Her laugher was still echoing in the passage when Balthazar and Veronica came in. They stared at her as she laughed so hard that she could barely stand up. She had to stop eventually though and pointed to the columns and herself over and over again. Balthazar understood after a while and grinned at her. He whispered something to Veronica who started smiling. They both knew what this meant.

Kate laughed one more time before getting down to business. She roused a confused Craig and gestured down the hallway.

"Come on," she said, "Let's get going. Got to go find Dave."

"He's gone after Mordred," Balthazar said, "I tried but…I don't think I could stop him from doing something stupid."

"Maybe you can't but she can," said Kate, hoisting Craig upwards.

"She?"

"Yeah."

"Wait…are you talking about Becky?"

"Well duh," Kate said, "Who do you think I'm talking about? Teresa Palmer? Don't be so dense. But yeah, we've got to go see if she needs help too. I don't think she does but just in case-"

"But Becky, Becky's…Becky's…" exclaimed Veronica.

Kate looked blankly at them for a minute. Craig rolled his eyes, half leaning on Kate for support.

"Yeah, Kate? Considering how we only found out a few hours ago, I don't think they know," he started.

"Oh," she said, figuring it out, "You…you don't know. Hm."

They stared at her.

"That makes this…" Kate said, "That makes this... kinda awkward."

.

.

.

Becky ran down the rock corridor. It was dark and she had difficulty finding her way. Not to mention there was her feet. With each footstep she felt something new pierce them. Even off the ground they were a huge mess of pain but she couldn't let it slow her down. She could have someone heal them later if need be. She would cut them off herself if she could just get there in time.

She burst into another open chamber, the sudden openness shocking her. She skidded on the floor before stopping completely, just causing more pain. In the middle of the chamber Dave and Mordred were fighting. Their backs were to her as they danced around each other, their blades flashing. Blood was splattering from Dave's numerous cuts onto the floor in large red droplets. She saw fingers on the floor too but she knew that they didn't belong to him, probably Mordred's.

Every single atom of her wanted to run over and try to do something. She didn't know what, trip Mordred or something, **anything**. True, her earlier fight back at her apartment hadn't exactly been helpful. She couldn't just stand there and watch him get hurt though. She wanted to shout to Dave, tell him she was there.

Becky had seen this in a vision though. If she interfered things would be bad, so very bad. No one had told her that but she somehow knew. Keeping her wits about her was the only way that this could possibly have a happy ending. So she forced herself to stay still and willed him to look at her.

Dave was caught underneath the chin by Mordred's elbow and hurtled to the floor. He rolled and Mordred jumped over him. He brought his sword up but caught sight of Becky. Mordred stopped and stared at her in confusion. Dave's attention instinctively drifted over as well and he froze. His face was unreadable. Mordred's on the other hand was full of confusion and disappointment.

"Wow…that's just…just…huh. I…I guess life's full of surprises. Just stay there though, and don't you move even a muscle. I'll be killing you again in a minute," he said, bringing his sword down.

She wanted to scream but Dave blocked with his sword. His blows became fast and furious, slashing at Mordred until he was forced to retreat. Dave got to his feet and threw a plasma bolt. It hit Mordred's sword and the electricity flowed through the metal and into his body. Mordred screamed and Becky was briefly treated to an image of his skeleton. Using this to his advantage Dave pressed forwards with more battering blows.

Mordred was forced back into the wall, his body sizzling. Dave was dodging attacks now but was still strictly on the offensive. Seeing a gap Mordred sprinted back into open space. He made a slashing motion which Dave was quick enough to doge. With a strangled cry Dave side-stepped him and made a powerful slicing motion. Mordred turned around just in time to receive the blow.

Excalibur cleaved through Mordred's shoulder to his hip. He screamed as he was sliced cleanly in half, fire coming out of the wound and consuming him at both ends. The fire gave way to black dust which was burned before it could fly out into the air. His scream started to grow louder as he dissolved and burned completely. The sword clattered to the floor, the only thing left of Morgana's son.

Weakly Dave watched the last of the dust burn up before he sank to his knees. He let Excalibur fall to the floor as he folded inwards, exhausted and bleeding. His hands were placed palm down on the floor to stop him from falling over on his face. However, he was still victorious. Becky ran over to him.

"No," he said.

She stopped a few feet away from him, uncertain. She had only seen what happened up until that point and had no idea what he was saying. Becky had thought that he would be glad to see her. From what Kate had told her he had been heartbroken at what he'd thought was her death. It wasn't as though she'd thought he'd be anything but; just that she hadn't thought she'd be repelled like this when she saw him again.

"Dave-" she stared.

"I'm sorry," he said, not looking at her "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry that I got you involved in this. I don't want it but I need my sanity…don't want to tell you to go…but…please…"

"Dave," she said, suddenly understanding, "You don't understand. You've got to listen to me; I'm really here. I am. I know what it looked like, what it must have felt like, but Dave I didn't die-"

"No, don't lie to me," he said in a choked voice, "I know you did. You died. He killed you and your head was injured and you died."

Becky felt the back of her head where her wound had been. It had been hurting on the way to the cemetery so one of the twins had fixed it up for her. While it had certainly been painful she had been assured it wasn't enough to kill a person. It also wasn't strong enough to do any lasting damage as they had assured her.

"I asked Balthazar, made him tell me what happened. I held you," he continued brokenly, "I closed your eyes so it would look like you were sleeping but I couldn't fool myself, not when you were like you were. I put you on your bed and tried so hard to deny it but…you were so cold and I…I couldn't."

Becky slowly covered the last few feet in front of him.

"I kept seeing you when I fought him," he said, "Every time I closed my eyes I saw you like I found you or held you or left you. When I saw you that last time I knew I had to do it…I couldn't let him win. But why are you still here? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I couldn't…that I didn't…I'm sorry…"

She knelt in front of him. Her dry lips managed to form something like a faint smile. She reached out and he flinched away. Ignoring this she started to wipe some of the blood off of his forehead. He closed his eyes when she did that, breathing out slowly as her fingertips moved across his forehead.

"Becky," he asked, opening his eyes and starting to cry now.

"I'm here," she assured him.

He took a deep breath in and stumbled forward again. Becky managed to catch him just before he hit the floor.

"I'm here," she repeated in a soft murmur, kissing his forehead and then his lips repeatedly, "I'm here. I've got you. I'm here."

Dave wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders and pulled her close enough so that she could hear his heartbeat. His blood was staining the strap of her nightgown but she could care less. He buried his face in her hair and she moved her face closer to his, kissing him once on his jaw.

"I love you," he said, his voice slightly muffled.

"I love you too Dave."

That was how they found the two of them when they came in. Becky saw Kate holding up Craig. Kate winked at her and Becky smiled weakly back. She smiled that same smile at Veronica and Balthazar, who just looked on incredulously. Then she closed her eyes and rested her head on Dave's.

"I've got you," she whispered again, "And I'm not letting go."

_**A/N: **__Just the epilogue to post tomorrow. I'm going to do the Balthy 100 challenge with these characters and background, but I have to say that doing the trilogy has been a great ride._


	47. Epilogue

"-I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

From the look on his face Balthazar neither wanted nor cared for the priest's permission. He waited all the same though before gathering her in her arms and kissing her fiercely. It was a little unchaste for a church, but no one was willing to argue. In this crowd that could mean being electrocuted.

Blushing Veronica looked over at the assembled host. Kate was there with a man that she'd been told was called George. Michael had winked when he told her the man's name and Kate had smacked him. The rest of the New York Merlinians were also there. They had all fought together and it seemed fitting that they should be there. In the depths of their vault, under ancient protections, they had also placed the mirror containing Horvath. It didn't get much more familial than that.

There were other reasons than their association for the attendance though. Many of them had also seen it as a historical occasion that they couldn't afford to miss. She'd overheard Jack telling the twins that they'd be telling their grandchildren about it one day. He'd also mentioned that it could very well be in the Incantus and she'd had to repress the urge to join in on the conversation.

They started clapping. From behind Balthazar Dave joined in, his hands moving a little stiffly. Dave had been healed up for the most part, and was looking fine from his position as best man. Balthazar had grudgingly given it to him. He hadn't wanted to give it to anyone at first, but thought that he needed to since Veronica had selected a maid of honor. She had laughed when she'd seen him tell him his decision in his normal brusque manner.

Dave had been surprised, especially at the manner that the invitation was offered, but had accepted. Veronica hadn't been able to resist teasingly telling him the age-old-tradition that if a groom didn't show up the best man would marry the bride. Then he had understood and looked a little sick. Balthazar then very loudly declared that he **would **be showing up, thank you very much.

Veronica had debated whether or not to tell him that the same thing went for the maid of honor in reverse, but she figured the poor boy had suffered enough haunting mental images. He had needed a little help getting up the steps, but since Balthazar had too they had very discretely helped each other. Two weeks wasn't as long as it sounded to help get the pain and stiffness out of their muscles.

Becky had gone before her, and in lieu of a relative, Veronica had given herself away. When she was younger she had hoped that Merlin would do the honor one day. Things had taken a rather different turn and she found herself walking alone. However, Balthazar was still waiting for her at the end. At least that hadn't changed.

He took her hand and led her down the aisle. Her wedding band clicked against her ring. Balthazar smiled at the sound that it made and gripped her hand tighter. They went into the car, which had been turned into a black Porsche for the occasion. She buckled herself in this time, careful not to tear the silk of the dress.

They didn't say anything on the trip to the Chrysler building. Originally they had planned to use the Arcana Cabana since there would be so few. With the new additions to the guest list using the small shop would make things awfully crowded. Anxious to help, and since they really hadn't bought a wedding gift, the New York Merlinians offered their floor of the Chrysler building.

Every now and then Balthazar would look over her and grin which she would reciprocate. His was starting to touch his ears by the end of it. Any bigger and she thought that it would split his face in two. Veronica was pleased to see him so happy. It took years off of him to see him smile like that. She could almost believe that they were on their way to Merlin's Keep when he looked that way. Well, if she ignored the fact that they were driving in a car through a steel and concrete jungle.

Upon arrival he helped her out of the car since her veil and dress were a little hard to navigate in. The comfortable clothes of the modern century had been spoiling her in their convenience. A few people in the lobby looked at them with open mouths. Veronica supposed that it wasn't every day a newly-married couple in full regalia would walk through the lobby and go into the elevator. The people who were going to take the next elevator moved aside, a few smiling in confused but congratulatory ways.

As the doors closed she caught that one of his cuff links was coming undone. Rolling her eyes she grabbed his hand to fix it.

"You're hopeless you know," she said.

"First words of our married life; you're hopeless you know," Balthazar commented, "Next thing you'll do is insist that I dance. Just making it clear right here and right now that I don't dance."

"Second phrase is sarcastic."

"The third is keeping track-" he started.

She rolled her eyes and kissed him mid-sentence. He stopped talking abruptly and responded, warm and sweet. Balthazar pulled away and smiled.

"Less talking," he said, "More of that."

He swooped in for another kiss just as the doors to the elevator opened.

"Geez, get a room," Dave said, mock-shielding his eyes.

"Nope," said Kate, shaking her head and leaning her elbow on George's shoulder, "That happens later kiddo."

Veronica pulled away and found herself blushing again.

"Children present," Jack said.

"That's right Kate, children present," Balthazar said, pulling Veronica into the room, "Isn't there supposed to be music or something?"

Craig snapped his fingers and orchestral music started to play from somewhere. They had done an excellent job decorating. Lilac roses spilled out of crystal containers on the tables. Yellow-green banners were draped around new columns and the floor had somehow been turned to wood so polished you could see your reflection in it.

Veronica suspected that Becky had assisted in the color scheme. Even the place settings had the appropriate colors, as did the slipcovers on the seats. Many of the Merlinians were looking at the flowers and decorations proudly as they took their seats. The food would be coming later, but at the moment it was all just a little informal.

When they sat down Balthazar reached out so that he could place his ring over hers. He let his glow a little before setting it down, letting her know that he'd figured out the color scheme. She smiled in return as he put his hand down fully. The clink she heard was much more satisfying than the one that her own rings had made on their own.

"Dave, we sit up near the front."

"I can't move very fast in these shoes."

"Never wear new shoes to a wedding," said Becky, "Break them in first."

"Yeah, I'll remember that next wedding I go to," he said, rolling his eyes.

"You'd better," she said as they sat down, "I'm not having you step on my feet when we dance."

Smiling Veronica inclined her head towards them. Balthazar rolled his eyes but she knew he was secretly pleased for his foster-apprentice. It was good that things were working so well for them, and she had a feeling that they would continue to. Noticing that they were watching Becky turned and looked at them.  
"My grandmother sends her apologies that she couldn't come," she said gently.

"No need," Balthazar said.

"She gave me this to give you."

Becky opened her purse and took out a thick bundle of fancy envelopes. Balthazar reached for it but Becky jerked it back.

"She said it was for Veronica."

"Typical," said Balthazar as the envelope was passed to Veronica.

The first envelope had the date of their wedding on it. Veronica opened it to see a picture of the two of them in their wedding finery dancing across the floor. She grinned mischievously.

"Looks like you do dance," she said as she opened the next envelope which also had the date on it.

The two of them were sitting together on a park bench. In the picture Veronica had laid her head on Balthazar's shoulder, who in turn rested his head on top of hers. Gray hairs were starting to show, white in a few cases. Age had started to wear on their faces, but it was still them, give or take a few decades.

Veronica held back tears and clutched the picture tightly. Balthazar kissed her on the top of her head. With trembling hands she reached for the third envelope. Just as she was about to open it she stopped.

"The date's a year from now," she said.

"We'd best wait until then," he said, laying it down on the table, "Seers you know. They don't want you to know too much. But…"

He grinned at her.

"…she's very accurate. How about that dance?"

She nodded happily and he pulled her onto her feet. Dave and Becky watched them go. When they had gone Dave turned to Becky.

"What was in the third envelope?" he asked.

"You're asking me. Why would I know?" she shrugged.

"Aw, come on!"

"No. No freebies," she said.

As Dave groaned she let her gaze drift over to the third envelope. Closing her eyes briefly she conjured up the image of a small child with raven hair and glittering blue eyes at around five years. The child was laughing as her father picked her up. Her mother was standing next to him, one hand wrapped around the father's shoulders and the other patting the girl on the head. On the bottom of the paper the name Yvainne Matilda Blake was written, born May 8, 2011.

Becky grinned before opening her eyes. She turned and grabbed Dave's arm, pulling him to his feet. As soon as he'd gotten up she kissed him.

"Come on," she said, "Let's go join."

_**A/N: **__And that's the end! Altogether, all of the stories, it clocks in at 330 pages on Microsoft word. Whew! Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing. Special shout-out to Arlothia, Jaselin, Kenobigirlz, nanu107, and Senendipity who have been constant reviewers. Thanks for the critiques and make sure to keep your classy old man shoes on!_


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